


Alliance

by ContrEeri



Series: Allied Nations [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, Fourth Shinobi War, Gen, Politics, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 182,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContrEeri/pseuds/ContrEeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post-Five Kage Summit] The Fourth Great Shinobi War has been declared. The five great nations are gathering their forces when an unexpected attack is waged on Suna. The resultant battle forces Suna's residents to seek refuge within Konoha. As the great nations gather their armies and desperately search for ways to defeat Madara's undead forces, lives are lost, the strength of the alliance is tested, and unexpected bonds are formed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Assault on Suna

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic in the summer of 2010, long before Naruto was over. It spawned into something completely unexpected, but I was determined to finish it and somehow I did. I still don't completely know how I managed to get this monstrosity finished, but I did and it's kind of surreal to be sitting here some 4 1/2 years later finally posting it. This project has been a labour of love and I hope that everyone enjoys reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I'm posting the prologue now, but won't be posting the remaining chapters for a while due in part to school, cosplay, and computer issues, but mostly because I have a massive amount of editing to undertake. I intend to start bi-weekly updates once the editing is complete, with only a few breaks in between regular bi-weekly posting due to anime conventions and general cross country trips to visit my family. 
> 
> Also a special thanks to [mihael_jeevas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mihael_jeevas/pseuds/mihael_jeevas) for looking over this chapter for me! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! ~Eeri

The peaceful silence of the early morning shattered as the south wall exploded and debris rained down upon the village, dust and smoke billowing. Before the shinobi on duty could react, another explosion went off along the valley wall near the residential district. The ninja trapped on the now crumbling wall began forming hand seals, while below more arrived on the scene, shouting orders and raising the alarm.

“Is the Kazekage on his way?!” a man cried out over the thunderous sound of the quaking wall.

“I don’t know! The alarm didn’t—There he is!” Shinobi turned their gazes skyward as a shadow fell: above them the Kazekage sped towards the scene on a mound of flying earth. There was a hopeful cry from the gathered shinobi, drowned out by another explosion.

Gaara looked upon the wall with cold, expressionless eyes. There was a crackle in the atmosphere, the smell of ozone permeating the senses. Another explosion shook the earth and he raised his hands like a commanding king, sand bursting from the ground to catch debris and seal up cracks, filling in the great gaps in the wall. “Report,” he said, descending to the ground.

“There was an explosion at the south wall followed by several more,” a senior Jounin said swiftly. “We do not know the cause yet, but by the rate and power of explosions the wall will not hold for long.”

The Kazekage’s eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t see the culprit.”

“No, Kazekage-sama,” he said. “Most of us were in the midst of preparing for the war effort and those on watch did not sound the alarm.”

“Gaara!” From behind, with their weapons drawn, his siblings rushed to him, expressions grim.

“What’s happened?” Kankurou said drawing up beside Gaara, his newest puppet jittering at his side.

“There was an explosion.”

“What caused it?” Temari asked, scanning the surrounding wall.

“Apparently nothing.” There was a hard edge to Gaara’s voice, his eyes still narrowed as he took in the damaged wall and surrounding buildings. The memory of the last major attack on Suna flashed through his mind and a jolt of anxiety surged through him. If he died again, he would not be able to come back.

“We’ll figure it out. We should send a scout—”

“No,” Gaara snapped. “We need to double the guard. Gather all shinobi, Genin and above.”

“But, Gaara, we need to find who’s responsible—”

“That’s a waste of time. We need to defend the village. Take the citizens to the evacuation tunnels and write to Konoha immediately.”

Before his siblings could argue, the earth shook as another explosion ravaged the wall. Debris flew high into the air and Gaara whirled around with raised arms. A tidal wave of sand burst into the air, moving toward the falling wall. As the sand hit the crumbling rock, Gaara caught a glimpse of a black cloak adorned with red clouds.

“Akatsuki,” he growled, his eyes narrowing further.

“Is it Mada—”

“It doesn’t matter. Hurry and evacuate the citizens.”

Temari and Kankurou shared a look as Gaara rose up on a pillar of sand. Nodding to one another, they began dealing out their brother’s orders to the gathered shinobi. They would not leave him to fight Akatsuki alone again.

Another blast sent the shinobi nearest the wall flying, more stones raining upon the village. The Kazekage summoned sand from the desert floor, sending it forth in a wave to support the wall, but the explosions were impossible to stop. He could not pinpoint the source of the blasts and his every attempt to repair the damage was rendered ineffective as further along the wall more eruptions followed, increasing in strength.

“Gaara! Watch out!”

He moved swiftly to the left to avoid injury, his coat tails grazing a familiar tiny white bird’s wing. His eyes widened in recognition the same moment the little bird detonated. The sand that had shielded him crumbled to the desert floor below. As the smoke cleared his gazed burned, alighting upon the figure of a blond, blue-eyed hellion perched atop a clay bird. “You.”

“Me! Uhn!” the man said, laughing. “You didn’t appreciate my art the last time, Gaara of the Desert! I think it’s time you did, uhn!”

“Gaara, get out of there!”

He ignored his brother’s frantic shout, his mind racing. “You’re dead.” 

“And so are you! Uhn!” Deidara threw another clay bird towards him. Gaara raised a hand in the air, summoning sand to catch the bomb and knock it towards the already demolished wall.

“GAARA!”

Another wave of sand crashed into the wall as Gaara dodged an onslaught of clay figures. The wall had crumbled behind him, leaving Suna wide open to attack. Deidara was relentless, letting loose another hailstorm of bombs that flew toward Gaara and the wall. Sand rose around the Kazekage, flying in two different directions: behind him to rebuild the failed wall and in front of him to attack.

“You won’t beat me that easily! Uhn!”

Gaara’s hand twitched and the grains of sand floating in the air burst around them, tiny shards biting at Deidara’s white-grey skin. He hissed his displeasure, shielding his face for a brief moment. Gaara took the opportunity to unleash a tendril of sand that knocked Deidara from his perch. His black Akatsuki cloak billowed, and he disappeared from within. The cloak hit the ground, a large rock breaking into pieces on the desert floor. Behind Gaara, a high laugh echoed in his ears. “Your defenses have failed, uhn!”

Gaara’s eyes widened and he spun around. Deidara was riding atop another bird, just above the south wall. Gaara noticed for the first time the many explosive clay figures embedded in the sand he had used to rebuild it. With a desperate motion, Gaara called the sand away from the wall, but it was too late. The tiny sculptures exploded, sending sand cascading over the nearest buildings and launching debris into the air. Beyond the wall, a wave of black clad ninja swarmed into the village, like a nest of desert wasps. Suna's shinobi rushed to meet them, ready to push back the invaders.

Deidara laughed, tossing a piece of unmolded clay in the air. “This is my special present for you, Kazekage,” he crowed as he flew circles around Gaara. “It’s going to be my masterpiece, so you better appreciate it! Uhn!” The clay disappeared into the mouth on his hand. Gaara took that moment to raise his own in the air, pulling sand up to attack the unwelcome ninja below.

“That won’t work! Uhn!”

The first scream that rent the air was from one of Gaara’s own shinobi: a young man who had only just become Chuunin. The next one belonged to a Jounin with a daughter; the next to a Chuunin who had just become engaged. Gaara watched, eyes wide and nostrils flaring, as his villagers were picked off, one by one. The sand had completely bypassed the enemy, closing in on nothing but air.

“Are you tired yet, Kazekage?” Deidara teased with a laugh.

Gaara glared, his hands shaking. He was failing his village again, he was letting it fall into enemy hands, and he had no way to stop it. His attention was drawn away as a familiar voice cried out in pain. Kankurou was on the ground, Temari standing in front of him with her fan whipping about in furious motions. She waved it in a wide arch, but the wind went through the attacking ninja. Every kunai, every punch, every attempted attack passed through them. His fear and anger erupted in an angry spray of sand, showering the village and the two floating above it in hot granules that bit at skin.

But he hadn’t been paying enough attention, distracted by the chaos of battle and blindsided by his own emotions. Deidara’s hands shot up in the air as Gaara’s sand whirled towards him. The clay figurines erupted, piercing through the sand in quick succession before the largest one flew at Gaara. His sand--quicker now without the strain of Shukaku--sped towards him, but the clay figure had already reached Gaara and wrapped around him. He clawed fruitlessly at the explosive as sand whipped around him in desperate swirls.

“If you’re wearing that armor of yours it won’t protect you against this. Uhn!”

Gaara flew into the demolished wall as a powerful explosion erupted on top of him. He hit the crumbling wall as another bomb detonated. His mind slipped into the dark of unconsciousness as around him his village fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the [art](https://38.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m5zzk3jk1o1qfsdeio1_500.jpg) my good friend, Fawn (OohDeary) made for me a couple years ago based on this chapter. It's more of an interpretative take than a literal one, as I'm sure you've gathered, but it's gorgeous!


	2. Retrieval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word has reached Konoha of Suna's fate and the Kazekage's condition. Tsunade sends her fastest team and best medic to rendezvous with the refugees of Suna in the hopes that they can save the Kazekage's life before it's too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic _is_ done, I swear. It's just the editing process. And between school, cosplay, and working full-time I am a very busy bee. I also, unfortunately, had some computer problems. But I'm hopefully going to start posting this regularly. Not quite yet ready for bi-weekly updates because there's too much editing to be done for that, but I'll probably work on fixing up chapter two and maybe have it up soon! Also, convention season is fast approaching. KatsuCon is my first con of the season, so my focus will be greatly divided on that as I have a lot of costumes to work on and I still work fulltime as a barista. I am very sorry for the delay on updates and I hope that anyone who read the prologue will come back to read this chapter. The action won't pick up for a while, but I do still hope everyone enjoys!

“Urgent message from Suna,” a kunoichi said from the doorway of the Hokage's office, a scroll clutched in her hand. 

Tsunade held out her hand for the translated scroll, her mouth in a thin line. There could be nothing good about an urgent message so close to the brink of war. The thin paper crinkled softly as Tsunade read the brief message, her eyes widening. “Dispatch as many available teams as we can afford immediately,” she snapped, rising to her feet. The woman nodded, hurrying out of the room. “Shit.” 

“Tsunade-sama?” Shizune asked. 

“Suna has fallen to Akatsuki. The survivors are en route to Konoha.”

“The Kazekage?”

“Alive but barely. Lucky brat.” 

“When did this happen?” 

“Yesterday. They’ll have taken the evacuation tunnels. They’ll be at least five days out, if not more with civilians in tow.” Tsunade’s eyes narrowed, glancing down at the message. “The Kazekage may not make it that long.” She turned to Shizune, coming to a quick decision. “Fetch Hyuuga Neji and his teammates. Bring Sakura as well.” 

“Hai, Tsunade-sama,” Shizune said, scurrying from the room. 

Tsunade sat back down, her expression tight with concern. She stared out the window of her office, her eyes set far beyond the forests of Fire Country. The only hope she had rested on the shoulders of someone now outside the village, sequestered away on an island for safekeeping. Try as she might, her thoughts were only grim at the prospect of going to war without Konoha’s strongest ninja. 

The door opened, interrupting her musings. Sakura entered, jaw set and hands clenched in fists, as though she expected the worst. “Hokage-sama?”

“I’m sending you on a mission with Team Gai.” Tsunade held out the scroll for Sakura. “That scroll is not to leave this room. It doesn’t give the best account of the Kazekage’s condition, but—” 

“The Kazekage? What’s hap—”

The door opened, cutting off Sakura’s question. Hyuua Neji, followed by his teammates, entered. “Hokage-sama.” 

“I have a mission for you.” She waited for the initial buzz of excitement from Rock Lee to subside, her eyes raking over the four before her. After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Suna has been attacked and the villagers are on their way here for refuge. I will be sending several teams to help escort them, but the Kazekage needs immediate medical attention. Your team is the fastest. I’m sending you ahead to bring him here as quickly as possible.” 

Lee was the first to speak up. “The Kazekage? But what could have—”

“Akatsuki. The details aren't clear, but there's no doubt that Madara is behind this.” 

“Will he be all right?” Sakura asked, the scroll's edges crunching in her hands as she scanned the message.

“That is yet to be seen. But he stands a much better chance of surviving this if he gets immediate medical attention. Do not waste any time.” Her eyes flicked to Lee. “If you have to, remove your weights. We cannot afford to lose a Kage at a time like this.” 

Lee saluted, his mouth turned down in determination. “I will open gates if I have to!” 

“Don’t overdo it, Lee. Just hurry.”

“Hai!” 

“If you run across any trouble, you are to inform the other teams as best you can. We do not have time to equip your team with the usual, but I trust you’ll manage. Dismissed.” She waved her hand, watching as Team Gai filed out of the room. Sakura stepped forward and placed the scroll on Tsunade’s desk. 

“The Kazekage will make it through, Hokage-sama,” Sakura said with conviction. 

“Sakura—” Tsunade broke off, turning to the window. “There’s no time for this. Go.”

“Hai!” Sakura left, the sound of the door closing behind her echoing in the silent office. 

Tsunade fell back into her chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The sake bottle on her desk was a tempting escape. She eyed the bottle for a moment before turning away. War was much closer on the horizon and she had little time to trade sober hours for the blissfully hazy ones sake offered. She reached across her desk, pulling a blank scroll towards her. With a brush in hand, she set to work, writing a coded letter to the other Kage.

***

The wind whipped through Lee's hair as he sped through the forests of Fire country. He itched to take his leg weights off, but they had only just begun their journey. He needed to reserve his energy, not waste it on a desire to let loose. 

“Sakura, Lee” Neji said, interrupting Lee's thoughts. “If there are enemies in the forest, I want you two to go on ahead. Tenten and I will fall back and scout until the other teams catch up.” 

“Hai,” Sakura said, all business. “Lee-san, if I slow you down, I can give you my medical kit—”

“I can carry you on my back,” Lee interrupted, not liking the idea of splitting up their team at all. “I would be useless to the Kazekage, and if I remove my weights we will meet with Suna’s people sooner.”

“Are you sure?” 

“That’s a good idea,” Neji agreed. “You’ll need to tend to the Kazekage, Sakura. He’s in critical condition as it is and the journey to Konoha will only make it worse.” 

“I’m not a hospital, Neji. I can only do so much without—”

“All you need to do is make sure he’ll survive the journey. If need be, Lee can make the return journey without you.” 

Sakura sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I'll do what I can.”

They fell silent, racing as fast as they could to the edge of the forests of Fire Country. It would take them a day and a half to reach the border at the rate they were going. Lee knew it was only a matter of time before Neji gave the order to send him and Sakura on ahead. It was a smart plan; Lee could make it into the deserts in half the time it would take his full team, even with Sakura on his back. A part of Lee desperately wanted to split up now, to run full-pelt towards their objective, to be weightless and flying; but leaving Neji and Tenten on their own did not sit well with him. He wasn't anxious for the moment when inevitably they would part ways.

They stopped to rest an hour later, taking the opportunity to go over the plans in case of enemy attack. With Neji’s Byakugan, they had an advantage that any attacking shinobi would not be aware of. They would know long before the enemy was upon them, giving Lee and Sakura the opportunity to avoid getting caught up in a fight. Lee did not like the idea of leaving his teammates to fend for themselves, though. Two against who-knew-how-many were not good odds. 

“The most important thing,” Neji reminded Lee, “is to bring the Kazekage back to Konoha. If we fall, you will go on without us. You will not turn back for us and you will not open gates. You will continue towards Suna.” 

“I understand,” Lee said, his tone stubborn despite his acceptance of the situation. Neji eyed him askance, before nodding. “Let’s go. We can’t afford to lose any more time.” 

Lee couldn’t agree more. They were in the trees again, moving swiftly towards their goal in a matter of minutes. By nightfall they had made good time; Lee estimated that they would be out of the forests by morning. 

“Can we stop for a break?” Tenten asked, not long into the night, her voice weary. 

Neji didn’t reply, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Lee and Tenten shared a look. With night now darkening the forest they were more wary of every sound and shadow, the knowledge that an enemy lying in wait would have the advantage at the forefront of all their minds.

Neji stopped abruptly on a branch, raising a hand in the air to stop the others’ progress. No one said anything, their breathing loud in the sudden silence. “Lee, take off your weights.” 

It took him less than a minute to remove his weights and once he had he held them awkwardly, unsure what to do with them. “I cannot drop them. It would alert them to our presence.” 

“Fuck,” Tenten breathed, making Lee bristle. “If Gai-sensei were here—”

“He’s not here. Lee, you’ll have to leave them up here. If things go well, you can retrieve them later.” 

Lee didn’t bother to reply as he bent down, attaching his weights to one another and then laying them across the thick branch of the tree he perched in. He patted them once for good luck before straightening. “How far off are they?” 

“There’s a band of shinobi forty-five degrees northeast of us, about sixty meters away. They seem to be resting for the moment or they may be lying in wait, I can’t be sure. And a hundred meters up there are more. It looks like they’re dotted all along the east section of the forest.” 

“It sounds like a trap,” Tenten said, her eyes narrowed. 

Lee nodded. “If they have not seen us we could—”

“No, Lee. You and Sakura will go on ahead. You’re fast enough that you should be able to get by undetected. Tenten and I will set up a perimeter and keep an eye on them. Hopefully we can figure out a way around them. Make sure to inform Suna of the threat.” 

“Hai,” Sakura said, stopping Lee’s protest before he could start. He fell silent, glaring ahead at the enemy he couldn’t see. 

“We will not know if you have made it and it could take days to find a way around them,” Lee said. “We should send word to the Hokage.” 

“She will be made aware of the situation,” Neji said, side-stepping Lee’s attempts at arguing. “Now go.” 

Lee nodded, crouching low so Sakura could climb on to his back. His heart rate picked up briefly as she wound her arms around his neck, his cheeks colouring. “Please hold on tight, Sakura-san.” 

She nodded, her breath hot against his ear, her arms and legs tightening around him. Lee took off through the trees, the lightness of his legs sending him forward at incredible speed. Had the situation not been so dire, he would have laughed at the freedom of it. Sakura made a strangled sound, burying her face against the back of his neck.

“It will be all right,” he assured her, but his words were lost to the rushing of the wind. 

It took him mere seconds to reach the enemy encampment and even less time to bypass it. The only sign of their passing was the sharp, sudden wind high in the canopies and a few falling leaves. The enemy didn’t notice anything until the leaves hit the forest floor, and by that time Lee and Sakura were already hundreds of meters away and counting. 

Hizashi blinked up at the trees, his Byakugan deactivated. 

“What is it?” one of the other shinobi asked. 

Hizashi shook his head. “Just the animals.” He did not believe his words, but his will was strong enough that he could utter such falsehoods. He picked up a leaf, twirling it between his fingers, and wished the shinobi racing through the forest luck. 

***

Morning brought with it a light sandstorm that covered their tracks but did nothing to slow Lee down. The winds were not particularly strong, but they were still enough to kick up swells of sand that scratched at his exposed skin. Sakura hid her face against his back as they raced through the storm, protecting herself from harm. They were out within minutes, back to racing through the calm desert with the sun beating down on them. 

“Do you think we’ll reach them soon, Lee-san?” Sakura said in his ear. He nodded, his cheeks a bright red that Sakura might mistake for exertion or redness from the hot sun. 

"I hope the Kazekage is all right," she added a moment later. Lee pushed himself harder against his better judgment, focusing all his energies on running and sparing none for talking. 

They had covered a great distance that night without a break. It was for the best, but Lee’s energy and ability to focus was dwindling. He could hold out—he _would_ hold out—but he needed to concentrate. When they met with Suna’s people he would eat something and maybe have the chance to rest while Sakura looked over the Kazekage. If he did not have time, he would just have to bear it. When he returned to Konoha he would train harder to build up his stamina. 

By the time the sun was at its highest point, Lee’s suit stuck to his body, pulling the hair on his arms and legs, and Sakura had become an uncomfortable addition (though he would never say so). Waves of heat swirled off the sand and the wind whipping past them was so hot it was unpleasant. 

“Lee-san, I think I see them,” Sakura said suddenly. Lee came to a sudden and complete stop, which put him knee deep in the desert floor. Sakura climbed off his back, pulling a face and tugging at the front of her shirt, which was dark with sweat. “Ugh,” she grumbled.

Lee's eyes drooped now that he was no longer running all out. He tried to keep himself awake, but it was a difficult thing. Sakura shifted beside him, pulling a white cloth from her bag and waving it in the air. The motion caught Lee's tired eyes and he swayed on the spot, watching the white flag fly back and forth. 

“I hope they don't think we're going to attack,” Sakura said under her breath. She bit her lip, continuing to wave the white cloth above her head.

Off in the distance, the procession of Suna's refugees had stopped. The heat rising from the sand made their image blurry, but Lee could just make out a tall figure standing at the head of the large line of villagers. After a long moment, someone with familiar spiky blonde hair pushed through to the front. Lee's eyes began to close and he slumped forward, dozing lightly. 

“Lee-san,” Sakura snapped, nudging him. 

“Huh?” Lee asked sleepily, blinking slowly up at Sakura. He smiled goofily, exhaustion making him feel silly, but Sakura's expression was grim and it reminded Lee of the severity of the situation. He shook himself, straightening to full height and shifting to pull his legs from the sand. “Forgive me, Sakura-san.” 

Sakura shook her head. “Don't worry about it.” 

Ahead of them, Temari broke away from her people followed by two more shinobi. They made their way towards Lee and Sakura, walking with purpose and unarmed. Temari appeared in good health, if tired, and the expression on her face was one of relief. Sakura dropped her arm, her own relief clear on her face. 

“So, where are the rest of the reinforcements?” Temari asked when she was within earshot. 

Sakura gave Temari a tired smiled. “They'll be here eventually.” 

“So it's just the two of you?” 

“We had to go on ahead. There are enemy shinobi all along the forests, about a day’s travel from the border of River. I suspect they were waiting to ambush you.” 

“Shit. How did you get through?” 

“Lee-san removed his weights,” Sakura explained, smiling and glancing at Lee. 

Lee was having trouble keeping awake again, but he snapped to attention at the sound of his name. 

“We separated from our team early last night. We haven’t stopped moving since,” Sakura continued. “Hokage-sama said that the Kazekage was in need of immediate medical attention.” 

Temari’s mouth became a grim line and she lowered her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “It still doesn't feel real. It was—one minute everything was fine and then he went silent. Before we could ask what was wrong, his sand surrounded him and he was gone. By the time we caught up to him the walls had already been breached.” 

“Was it really Akatsuki?”

“Yes. That same bastard who got us last time, too.” 

“But—isn’t he dead?” 

Temari’s nostrils flared. “Apparently not. And he had reinforcements. Our attacks didn’t even touch them. Gaara’s sand went right through them like they weren’t even there.” Temari clenched her jaw, then turned sharply. “Come with me. You’ll need to check him over.” 

Sakura and Lee followed after Temari with the two Suna nin bringing up the rear. When they reached the villagers, the two shinobi who'd accompanied Temari returned to their posts, standing on either side of a formidable looking man. Lee, Sakura, and Temari continued into the throng of anxious looking civilians and sharp-eyed shinobi. As they treked through the crowd, Lee’s vision swam. He rummaged in his weapons pouch for something to eat, popping the first edible thing into his mouth. It was one of his sensei's homemade dumplings and the sharp bitterness of it revitalized him. By the time they reached the Kazekage, Lee was feeling almost one-hundred percent and he was already planning the training regimen he would put into action once he returned to Konoha. 

“Kankurou,” Temari said, her voice sharp with worry. The puppet-user was sitting on the ground next to their unconscious brother, his expression pinched and sweat running down the sides of his face, smearing his paint. Sakura was at his side in an instant, nudging his hand away from the wound. It was poorly dressed and blood had soaked through the bandages. 

“You didn’t tend properly to the wounded,” Sakura noted, her voice laced with professional annoyance. 

“We didn’t have time,” Temari snapped. “We were under attack. The amount of shinobi we lost—” She broke off, taking in a deep breath. “We did what we could with the limited resources we were able to salvage before evacuating.” 

Sakura nodded, looking apologetic. “I’ll do what I can to help. I brought plenty of supplies. I can get the medics stocked and help see to those who are injured.”

“Do we have time? I don’t want to be out in the open any longer than we have to. Besides, we can’t treat Gaara here.” 

Sakura nodded, moving from Kankurou’s side to lean over the Kazekage. “I can do something to stabilize him for now. Can you tell me what happened?” Her hands hovered over his ribs, green chakra haloing them. 

“He was blown into a wall. It fell on him, nearly crushed him. I think it would have if not for his sand,” Temari said in a detached voice. Lee looked at her carefully, noting the bags under her eyes. He might not have been the most observant shinobi, but he could see that Temari was doing her best to stay strong.

“His ribs are broken in three places and there’s some internal bleeding,” Sakura reported. She frowned, shaking her head. “And the injury to his head—Lee-san, how fast can you get back to Konoha from here?” 

“I can—”

“Wait!” Temari snapped. “You can’t be thinking of removing him from our care! He’s safest with _us_.” 

“If he stays with you he’ll die. The journey is too long and you’re moving slow because of civilians. Plus, you can’t go the direct way into Konoha anymore. I can stabilize him—it’ll give him another day before he needs immediate attention—and I can strap his ribs so they don’t jostle. But he needs to be taken to Konoha now.” 

“Then we’ll do it, we’re his people, his family. I’m not going to entrust him to someone—”

“Temari,” Kankurou cut in, his voice strained. “Just listen to them. We can’t—we can’t move as fast as Lee. We won’t be able to get him to Konoha in time.” 

Nostrils flaring, Temari glared at her brother, her expression caught between anger and worry. 

“Please, Temari-san. I will do all in my power to see the Kazekage makes it to Konoha safe and on time,” Lee cut in, trying to console her. 

“What if you get attacked?” 

“I will open as many Gates as I have to. I am fast enough that I can bypass the enemy and see the Kazekage through to Konoha. Nothing will stop me, I promise.” 

“Promises are just words,” Temari said, the tension in her jaw stilting her speech. She shook her head. “If it’s the only way I’ll let you take him, but if he dies because of this—this idiotic plan I swear I’ll kill you.” 

“If the Kazekage dies in my care, then I shall do the honourable thing,” Lee told her earnestly. “If you wish for my death, then I will see to it that you get it, Temari-san.” 

Whatever Temari had expected, Lee’s willingness to offer his life had not been it. She swallowed, looking away. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t—just take care of him.” 

Lee stood up a bit straighter, that determined frown that he always wore more pronounced and his eyes alight. He saluted her. 

Sakura gave a relieved sigh, returning her attention to the Kazekage. It took her ten minutes to stabilize him and another five to bind his ribs with the others watching on anxiously. Lee tried to give them the privacy they deserved, hovering just outside of their little huddle around Gaara. Around them, villagers were passing food and water around, trying to rest for as long as they could while the shinobi stood guard, watching the desert with hawk-like intensity. The medic-nin present went through the supplies Sakura had brought and began to tend to the injured as best they could. 

“There,” Sakura finally said, finishing up one last bandage around the Kazekage’s pale chest. Lee glanced over Kankurou’s shoulder, spying large patches of purple bruises that coloured Gaara’s otherwise pale chest. He quickly looked away, worry catching in his throat. This was by far the most important mission of his entire life; there was no room for failure. 

“Lee-san, you’ll need to move carefully,” Sakura said, pulling him from his internal pep-talk. “If you jostle him too much it won’t matter that I’ve set his ribs.” 

“I promise to move swiftly and smoothly on my return to Konoha,” Lee assured her, moving forward. 

“What about his gourd?” Sakura looked to Temari, raising her eyebrow. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Sakura frowned, but nodded, helping Lee situate the unconscious Kazekage on his back. “Hold on, Lee-san. I have some straps that will help,” she said, pulling from a satchel at her feet two black straps. “This should keep him from moving too much.” 

Lee nodded, waiting patiently and trying not to blush while Sakura’s hands danced across his chest. Her hand pressed against him as she tightened the strap and his heart beat quickened before he could calm himself, giving him away. 

She finished her task and pulled away, leaving a burning hot hand print in her wake. 

“Good luck, Lee-san,” she whispered, not meeting his expectant gaze.

The villagers and some of the younger shinobi began to whisper, the sound rising like an angry swarm of wasps. The arrival of allies had been a relief, but to see the Kazekage being taken away set them all on edge. The tension built as the whispers spread down the line in either direction. 

“Go,” Temari said stiffly. “May the winds see you safely home.” 

Lee nodded and took off, kicking up sand as he went, a green blur that was gone the next moment. 

“Do you really think he’ll make it?” Temari asked.

Sakura nodded, watching the horizon, her eyes scanning it as though she could find Lee there in the cloud of sand he'd kicked up in his wake. “He’ll make it,” she whispered. “He’s stronger than people give him credit for.” 

***

Lee opened the First Gate an hour after leaving. Sakura had said the Kazekage only had one day, so Lee would make sure to be in Konoha in half that time. By his calculations, they were still too far out. His muscles strained under the rush of chakra and his nerves were on fire. It hurt more than Lee wanted to admit, but he would not falter or stop, not even to rest. He was thankful that Sakura had secured the Kazekage firmly in place, because Lee was sure he'd have fallen off by now otherwise. The Kazekage’s uneven breaths ruffled Lee’s hair gentler than the wind. If Lee didn’t know any better, he could have mistaken it for Sakura. But if he paid attention the differences were obvious. For instance, the Kazekage was heavier than Sakura (though not by much), with muscles in different places and his build less slight. He seemed to Lee so much more delicate than Sakura had been, though, and the thought spurred Lee on faster. 

He turned as the plains of River made way for the forests of Fire. Trees grew in closer groups as he raced onward, and he took a sharp right before taking to the trees. The back way to Konoha would take much longer than the direct route, but he didn't want to risk going through enemy encampments again. He would need to open another gate before too long, but he didn’t want to push himself too soon. A flare of unfamiliar chakra had him pushing onward even faster than the First Gate would normally allow. Behind him explosive tags went off, too slow to be a threat to him. Despite this, he opened the Second Gate, pulling a muscle as he jumped from one tree to the next, keeping close to the edge of the forest. 

“Do not worry, Kazekage-sama,” he whispered, ducking low to avoid a branch. Gaara was jostled, making Lee’s stomach knot for a moment in worry. “I promise we will be there soon.” 

Another trap was sprung as he finished his sentence, this one also too slow to catch him. All along the forest, kunai flew, aiming for a target that had already passed by. Once he was through the trap, the trees behind him littered with kunai, Lee opened the Third Gate, his thoughts now on Sakura and the people of Suna. It was clear that the back way to Konoha had been filled with traps on the off-chance that someone might use it. Since there weren’t any shinobi standing guard, Lee assumed that whoever had ordered this was not overly concerned about travelers taking the long road. It was sloppy and Lee was grateful for that, just as he was grateful that he was setting off the traps now. If he'd had the time, he’d try to set them all off—he was sure that he’d missed plenty at the speed he was traveling—but the Kazekage took top priority. Besides, once the shinobi of Suna saw the many scorch marks from the explosive tags and the kunai embedded in the trees they would know to be on guard. 

The wind rushed past Lee’s ears, deafening him to all sound except the constant and uneven breathing directly in his ear. It was an odd rhythm next to the nothingness of the wind and the ringing in his ears, but it was reassuring: it meant that Gaara was still alive and Lee had not failed. By Lee’s calculations they were still more than half a day’s travel from Konoha and night was beginning to fall. The Kazekage didn’t have time to wait and, since the back way was more inconvenient than not, Lee opened the Fourth Gate. 

He jumped from one tree branch to the next at such speed that the branches creaked in warning. He was making better time now, covering a greater distance in a single jump than most shinobi could in ten. He could only imagine how much faster he’d be going if he opened the Fifth Gate. 

Gaara groaned in his ear, startling Lee so much he almost lost his balance as he pushed off another branch. He landed a hundred meters away, stopping to glance at the Kazekage. Gaara’s head had rolled so that his face pressed against Lee’s shoulder and neck—Lee thought it must be making it more difficult for him to breathe that way—but he seemed fine other than that. 

“Kazekage-sama?” he whispered as quietly as he could, carefully adjusting Gaara's head to ensure his breathing was not disrupted. 

Gaara didn’t respond, which Lee took to mean he was fine because he did not like the other options. Besides, Lee was an optimist; he much preferred to look on the bright side. Yet it did not ease the worry that sound had stirred in him though, and so he didn’t bother to second guess himself as he opened the Fifth Gate. He pushed off the branch with such force that he caused it to break cleanly from the tree. He looked back and shouted “Gomenasai!”

After that, the journey to Konoha went by much faster, lessening Lee’s worries considerably. 

Two hours after opening the Fifth Gate, Lee had just jumped from another tree when a loud thud met his ears . He turned in midair to get a good look at his surroundings, searching for the source of the noise. What he found sent his adrenaline pumping wildly: a small huddle of shinobi were standing with their weapons drawn some fifty yards away. They all wore different hitai-ate. He frowned, taking cover behind a tree. Gaara groaned again as they came to a stop in the darkness. Lee winced, hoping the shinobi below hadn't heard. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“Shut up,” someone below whispered. “They’ll hear us.” 

Lee rolled his eyes and Gaara groaned again. “Shh,” he hissed without thinking. Lee winced again. “Oh, dear.” 

There was no time to waste now that he’d done that—if he continued to stand around, he’d end up drawn into a fight that he didn’t have time for. On top of that, his energy wasn’t going to hold out for much longer and if he had to engage in battle, he was almost sure he would pass out. It was difficult to grab another dumpling with Gaara on his back, but after several tense moments he had one in his mouth. It was that extra boost he’d needed to push off. Once again, he was a bit too forceful and the branch broke with a loud _crack!_

“Over here!” 

“Move in!” 

There was a succession of thuds as kunai embedded in the tree, but he was already long gone. 

“That was incredibly close,” he muttered to the Kazekage. Gaara didn’t offer a response, but he was still breathing and that was all that concerned Lee. They would be in Konoha in just under thirty minutes if Lee kept up this pace. Lee smiled tiredly, his eyes dropping half-closed for a moment before he snapped them open again. 

“I am thinking that I may need to open the Sixth Gate, Kazekage-sama.” 

“Ngh,” Gaara groaned. 

“But, Kazekage-sama, I have to! I am nearing my limit and you need medical attention post haste. I promised to deliver you to Konoha and I cannot go back on my word!” 

Gaara didn’t reply, but Lee couldn’t help feeling that his silence was laced with disapproval. He sighed. “You are right. I should look at this as a challenge! If I can make it to Konoha in fifteen minutes without opening another gate then I will have truly surpassed myself! However, if I cannot make it in fifteen minutes without opening another Gate I shall do ten thousand laps around the village with heavier weights!!! I think that is an excellent challenge, indeed!” 

Silence met Lee’s words again, but this time he was sure it was a more approving one and so he continued on, the determination to make it to Konoha burning through him. 

***

Gaara groaned, opening his eyes to a sunlit room that smelled of medicinal herbs and fresh air. He blinked several times, his eyes adjusting to the brilliant light streaming in from the open window overlooking a village that was not his own. A light breeze fluttered the curtain, bringing with it the smell of trees. It took his muddled mind several minutes to realize that he was in Konoha, though the reason for that did not immediately present itself. He swallowed thickly, his throat scratchy and dry, and took in a deep breath that stuttered as searing pain shot through his ribs and around his back. He gasped, his arms wrapping around his midsection instinctively, though the motion only made the pain worse. His sand swirled around him uselessly, unable to protect him from what had already been done. After a few tense moments he forced himself to calm. As the agony ebbed to a dull thrum his sand settled around him like a loyal pet with its hackles raised. 

He tried to sit up, determined to find his siblings, but the pain returned and his sand hissed around him, echoing in the quiet hospital room. He growled, frustrated with himself for being weak, frustrated because he couldn’t remember why he was in Konoha—

And then the memories hit him like the explosion that had landed him in the hospital. He stared up at the ceiling in wide-eyed horror, breathing in erratic bursts that sent shocks of pain through him. His village, his people—he’d let them down again. 

Another memory rose to the surface: the memory of his shinobi fighting and dying to protect their home, of his brother injured and Temari doing her best to fight the untouchable enemy. He forced himself to sit up, hissing through the pain of moving as he pushed his blankets aside and gingerly stepped out of bed. He tottered precariously for a moment, adjusting to the pain and weakness in his body. His sand molded to his skin to form the armor that made him feel safest as his mind cleared and his senses returned. On the other side of the door, voices drifted past. 

“—coming now to check on him.” 

“Did you hear about Ro—”

“—taking up our resources—” 

He pushed the door open, hunched over and breathing hard, and silence fell in the hallway. 

“Kazekage-sama!” one of the medic-nin nearby cried, rushing to his side. “You shouldn't—” 

His sand rose up instantly, making her skitter back. He was not in the mood to be coddled. “I wish to speak to the Hokage.” 

“O-of course, Kazekage-sama! Right away!” 

Nearly everyone in the immediate vicinity rushed to comply, leaving the rest to stare. A flash of chakra alerted him to the presence of his ANBU; two of his most trusted guards appeared in the hall on either side of him, each one a safe distance from him, their masks in place. “Kazekage-sama,” one of them said, nodding. 

He didn’t reply, too distracted by the pain in his ribs to pay civility any mind. He clenched his jaw, grit his teeth, and tried not to let the pain show. If the Hokage kept him waiting long, he would just have to go to her office. He was not going to stand around in the hospital, waiting for answers. Pain be damned. 

“Gaara!” 

He snapped his head around at the sound of his sister's voice. The sudden movement brought with it increased pain that rocked his body, making spots dance in his vision and had him hissing through his teeth along with his sand. His sister and brother, both carrying bags of food, stood at the end of the hall. Despite the pain in his body, the sight of them eased some of the tension he'd been feeling. It was not a physical release, but knowing they were both alive made the pain easier to bear.

“Temari, Kanku—” He barely had time to brace himself before his sister was on him, pulling him into a hug that had him biting back an agonized shout. His vision went white for a brief moment, his body stiffening in protest. 

“You need to stop pulling stunts like this,” Temari whispered, her voice choked. “We can’t have you dying on us again.” 

“I didn’t die,” he somehow managed to say. 

“You could have,” Kankurou said, coming up behind Temari. He tapped her on the shoulder, an exasperated look on his face. “Seriously, sis, give him a break. His ribs are still healing, ya know?” 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Temari released her hold on him and Gaara stumbled back, catching himself on the door frame. “I just—you could have died. I thought for sure—”

“I’m fine,” Gaara ground out, despite the evidence to the contrary. He wasn’t happy about his current condition, but there was no point in discussing it now. What had happened had happened, there was no way to change it. “The village. What happened?”

“We evacuated. The civilians were already being led out by the time we began the retreat. If any of us had stayed to fight it would have been suicide.” 

“That’s fine,” Gaara said distantly. There was no point in being the leader of a village that did not have people in it. People were the heart and soul of any place. He was disappointed about losing his village to Akatsuki, but he wasn’t going to place the blame on his shinobi. It wasn’t their fault; after all, they’d been fighting against an enemy impossible to kill. “How many made it out?” 

“Too many,” Tsunade snapped. 

Gaara turned carefully around to stare blankly at Tsunade. “That’s not a number.” 

“I don’t particularly feel like giving you any answers until you’re lying in bed.” 

Gaara’s eyes narrowed. He might have been in her village, but he wasn’t going to be ordered around. “I’m fine.” 

“Hardly.” She glared at his siblings, crossing her arms over her chest. “You should convince your brother he needs rest. I didn’t risk the lives of my shinobi just to have him damage himself after being rescued.” 

“Hokage-sama,” Temari said, her voice even. 

“Come on,” Kankurou said, reaching out and ruffling Gaara’s hair. Gaara pulled away, scowling. “Just get back in bed. She’s got a point, ya know? You’ve been out for two weeks—”

“Two weeks?” he snapped. 

“Yes, and if you don’t get back in bed, I’ll knock you out for another two weeks, meeting be damned,” Tsunade threatened.

Gaara allowed himself to be ordered back to bed, his siblings, the Hokage, and his guards following him into the room. Climbing back into bed was an embarrassing ordeal and Temari’s attempt to help did nothing to ease his frustration with himself. He did his best not to push her away and eventually he was in bed, sitting up against a pile of unnecessary pillows that his sister insisted on stuffing behind him.

“Will you explain now?” Gaara did his best to keep the demand from his voice, but it was a near thing. 

Tsunade sighed. “We received word from you a day after the attack. Your village had already evacuated and you were in critical condition. I sent my fastest team and one of my best medics to retrieve you, while several other teams were dispatched to guide your villagers safely to Konoha. Unfortunately, that took longer than expected due to circumstances.” 

“Which were?” Gaara prompted, clenching his hands in his bed sheets.

“There were enemy shinobi waiting for you. They were about a day’s travel into the forest. The team I sent to retrieve you was forced to split up. Haruno Sakura and Rock Lee went ahead to take care of you.” 

Gaara took a moment to digest that information. “When did we arrive?” 

“ _You_ arrived roughly two days after I sent my team to assist, while your villagers—approximately two-thousand of them—made it here a week later. They were forced to take the back roads, which, as I understand, were littered with traps as well as enemy shinobi. Shinobi that, might I add, do not die.” 

Gaara pressed his lips together. “Then it was the same group that attacked my village.” 

“Fortunately, your shinobi managed to fend them off and the villagers made it here mostly unharmed, which is more than I can say for Rock Lee or yourself.” 

“I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.” 

“Oh, shut it. It’s hardly a matter of convenience at this point. The other Kage have agreed that we need to meet—we’ve just been waiting on you to wake up. It’s obvious that Madara’s following through on his declaration of war—and much sooner than we'd hoped.” 

Gaara nodded. 

“We need to gather our forces quickly and hope that the enemy isn’t as powerful as he seems. If he's truly controlling the dead—“ 

“We can’t fight against that,” Temari cut in. “We tried and failed.” 

“Someone has to be controlling them. They reminded me of puppets—” Temari snorted, rolling her eyes at Kankurou, but he ignored her. “If we can find the source we might stand a chance.” 

“And if we can’t?” Tsunade asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think we haven’t already thought of that? Finding the source is one of our top priorities, but we can’t rely on that. We need to come up with a way to fight this army.” 

“We can discuss this further at the meeting. When is it?” Gaara glanced at the door as familiar chakra hovered on the other side.

“Come in, Sakura.” 

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but Lee-san just woke—”

“That idiot,” Tsunade growled. “All right. I’ll be right there. Try to keep him from doing anything stupid.” 

“I left him with Tenten and Neji,” Sakura said.

“Great, just what he needs: to be challenging people to ridiculous competitions. Just keep him in bed. That boy doesn’t need to strain his muscles any more than he already has.” 

Sakura bowed and departed. 

Gaara frowned turning his attention back to Tsunade. “When?” 

Tsunade met his gaze, the challenge evident in the set of her brow and the line of her mouth. “You need your rest. We can wait until the end of the week—”

“It should happen as soon as possible.” 

“We will leave at the end of the week after you’ve had more time to recover. We can’t travel to Iron with you in your current state. You two had better make sure he doesn’t get out of bed.” 

Temari and Kankurou nodded. The Hokage left with one final glance at Gaara, shaking her head and muttering about insolent brats. Gaara glowered at the door, settling in for a long week of doing absolutely nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out [this precious artwork](https://brianadoesotherjunk.tumblr.com/post/161928352921/it-may-not-be-the-infamous-kakagai-piggyback-ride) that tumblr user briandoesotherjunk made of Lee carrying Gaara safely to Konoha!


	3. The War Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is on the horizon, but with an injured Kazekage things are slow moving. But the Kazekage is stubborn. The five Kage must meet again to prepare for war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this so soon, but I've basically been sucked back into working on this fic (and now its sequel) this week. Oops. I'm definitely not gonna be able to update this regularly in the future though. Eventually, I'm gonna hit the chapters that haven't been written for five years--those are gonna need some serious editing! Also, costumes don't make themselves and Katsucon is only 2 1/2 months away! Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. After this, things start to pick up quite a bit and the chapters will get longer!

The entire south-east half of the wall had been reduced to naught but sandrock and boulders. It was littered with the bodies of Suna’s fallen and guarded by the black-clad shinobi no weapon could touch. Though he couldn't see past the debris from the ruined wall into the village, it was clear that Suna was no longer shining with its former glory.

“Kichiro,” Akiko’s voice buzzed in his ear, fuzzy over the frequency, “report.”

“At least a hundred guards at the south-east wall. None of them appear to be shinobi we could take on in combat.”

“Dammit,” Akiko snapped. “Matsuo, what’s your status?”

“South-west is covered in these bastards. There’s no way to get in. What’s your end look like?”

“The same, blast it all. Kichiro, do you think we stand a chance of getting in through the underground tunnels?”

Kichiro frowned, sliding forward on his stomach, careful to maintain his camouflage. Sand slid from the cloth, hissing as it went, reminding Kichiro of the Kazekage. “If we’re careful, we might be able to, but they’re probably guarded.”

“You think they found the tunnels?” Matsuo asked.

“I don’t want to assume they haven’t,” he corrected. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Those bastards are going to pay.”

“I’m with you on that,” Matsuo muttered. "Akiko, you good with that?”

“Let’s tear this place apart, boys.”

Kichiro grinned. He hands blurred as he formed a series of seals, then sunk them deep into the sand. It swirled around him, sucking him into its depths. He resurfaced miles away, far from Suna's gates and desimated wall, his teammates rising from the ground on either side of him.

Akiko slid her camouflage aside, dark eyes narrowed as she scanned the area. She crept towards the large rock that jutted up from the ground before them, its pointed tip directing their gaze towards Suna. It was said that the first Kazekage had followed the direction the stone pointed to, believing it would lead him to water. When he’d found the valley hidden behind the platue, he had settled and thus the village hidden in Sand was born.

Now, the stone marked the exit for the evacuation tunnels. Once they had made it into Suna, the tunnels would let out at the base of Suna’s Kage monument and right into the heart of danger.

The three ANBU shared significant looks, nodding solemnly. “For Suna,” Akiko said.

“For Suna,” they agreed. “And for the Kazekage,” Kichiro added as the team began forming the seals that would grant them access to the underground tunnels.

***

Sakura huffed, hands on her hips as she glared at the empty hospital bed. She’d been prepared to deal with Lee’s enthusiastic attempts at returning to his usual training regimen, had even promised herself she would bear it with a gracious understanding, but this was the last straw. She was thoroughly sick of his antics and no amount of apologizing would change that. He’d managed to sneak out every day since waking up and nothing anyone did could stop him. It was endearing to a point, but Lee’s thick-headed nature was liable to ruin any progress he’d been making. Sakura would not stand for that, especially now that they were on the brink of war. 

“Goddammit,” she muttered, giving a frustrated groan and turning on her heel to march back down the corridor. It was a wonder he’d managed to get away with sneaking out so many times in the past three days given how infamous he was within the hospital. Every seasoned medic knew that Rock Lee could not be trusted to sit still for an hour, let alone days or weeks while he healed. Lee might have been a very skilled shinobi, but Sakura couldn't help thinking that it was her colleagues unwillingness to argue with Lee that was helping him to sneek around. 

“Sakura!” an older medic cried, running after her. “I just went to check on Rock Lee and he’s—”

“Missing, I know. I’m going to get him.” 

“Oh, thank goodness! I was worried. He has a check-up in ten minutes! After his workout yesterday I was sure he’d have damaged some of his tendons.” 

Sakura rolled her eyes. “I doubt that would stop him.” 

“You’re probably right”, the woman said with a laugh. “Well, I’ll let you take care of him while I get everything ready for his check-up.” 

“Thanks,” Sakura said, watching her hurry back to Lee’s room. She sighed, returning to her search of the hospital and mentally preparing for the lecture she was about to give. She turned down another corridor, making her way towards the courtyard. There were only so many places that Lee could be, and so far he hadn’t bothered to hide where he snuck off to for training. 

The courtyard was empty when Sakura arrived and for a moment she thought Lee had chosen a new place to train, but his exuberant voice gave him away.

“I am most honoured that I could be of service and I am quite relieved to hear that he is all right!” 

The person Lee was speaking to said something in response, but his words were softer, making it difficult for Sakura to catch his reply. She followed the dull drawl to its source, spotting Lee and Kankurou standing beneath the shade of the lone tree in the courtyard. 

“It was really no trouble, Kankurou-san! It is my duty as a shinobi to protect my village and its allies! I was simply doing as the Hokage instructed.” 

Kankurou snorted. “Whatever you say. I just wanted to say thanks.”

Lee gave Kankurou a thumbs-up. “You are most welcome! It is wonderful to know that I was so important in aiding the Kazekage. I hope that his recovery is going well.” 

“Yeah, Gaara’s just anxious to get out of here so they can discuss the war effort. And it doesn't help that he's injured—makes him cranky.” 

“I understand,” Lee said solemnly, his expression suddenly serious. “I, too, feel confined by the restrictions the hospital has placed on me! It is impossible to keep such energy contained! I need to exercise my youthful vigor so that I may improve my skills—”

“What you need,” Sakura interjected, coming around the side of the tree and into view, “is to get back to bed.” She gave Lee a stern look, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Sa-Sakura-san!” 

“Honestly, can’t you just stay put? I spoke with one of the medics just now and she said you hurt yourself after yesterday’s display.” 

“Oh! No, of course not! I am perfectly fine! It was really nothing to be so concerned over!” 

Sakura narrowed her eyes. “What happened?” 

Lee gave Sakura a sheepish smile, looking to Kankurou for aid. “I was just—I mean, it is silly! It was nothing! I just… Well, I was using my weights—”

“What?! Lee-san! Tsunade-sama ordered you not to use those for at least another month! You could have undone all the work she did healing you!” 

“B-but Sakura-san! I have to train!” 

“No, you need to rest,” she snapped, poking him sharply in the chest, making him wince. Kankurou shook his head, a smirk on his painted face. Sakura whirled on him. “And you! You should have sent him back to bed! You know just as well as I do how badly he was injured rescuing your brother!” 

Kankurou held his hands in the air, staring down at Sakura in surprise. “Woah, I’m not in charge of him. I just wanted to say thanks—”

“And if your brother were out here overdoing it after being severely injured? Wouldn’t you want someone to send him back to his room?” 

“If my brother tried to do this—other than needing to have his head checked—I don’t think anyone would have the balls to send him back to his room before he wanted to go.” 

Sakura raised an eyebrow, her mouth twitching into a small amused smile against her will. Lee waved his hands frantically, his face beat red. “Ka-Kankurou-san! That is no way to speak in front of a lady!” 

“I’m just tellin’ it like it is,” he said, turning to leave. “I’ll see ya around.” 

Sakura shook her head, watching Kankurou as he walked away. Once he was back inside, her eyes narrowed and she turned on Lee. “Inside, Lee-san! You have a check-up in five minutes. Now hop to it!” 

“Hai, Sakura-san!” he said, saluting her and hightailing it back into the hospital. Sakura noted with a sigh that he was favoring his right leg. She followed after him, quickly pulling up beside him. 

“You really should just wait until Tsunade-sama clears you for exercise, Lee-san. The more you fight it, the longer you’ll have to wait.” 

“I need to train,” he said seriously. “The Kazekage nearly lost his life, Sakura-san—”

“That wasn’t your fault! You saved him! You’re a hero.” 

Lee blushed, shaking his head. “Hokage-sama told me when I first woke up, before my surgery, that if I had been even ten minutes later—" He broke off, as though the thought of his almost-failure were too much. "She said I was a hero, too. That it was lucky I had made it back so quickly, but I was almost too late. If I had just been a bit faster, a bit stronger—this time I was lucky, but I could still be better. I cannot continue to sit by! I have to train! Now more than ever! Please understand, Sakura-san.” 

Sakura sighed. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I promise to be careful! I will not use my weights again until I have been cleared to! But I need to maintain my regimen.” 

Sakura frowned. “I don’t know—” 

“Call the Hokage! Quick!” 

“What’s happened?” 

“The Kazekage should also be informed!”

“Right away!” 

Sakura and Lee turned, staring down the corridor for a moment before setting off quickly, following the sound of the frantic shouting. 

“This one’s cold—”

“No! A-Akiko—”

“Hold him down!”

“The Kazekage is on his way—”

“What? You let him get out of bed—”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“Akiko!” 

“Fuck! Where’s that damn—I need a sedative!”

Sakura came to a halt in a crowded corridor, Lee limping just behind her. A Konoha shinobi was standing awkwardly to the side with the limp body of a Suna kunoichi in his arms, her hair caked with blood and a large gash in her side. Two medic-nin were trying to hold down another of Suna’s shinobi while a third tried to calm him. 

“This isn’t working! He’s too—”

“Move aside,” Sakura snapped, jumping into action, her hand already haloed by green chakra. “I’ll take care of him.” 

“Excuse me!” the medic in charge snapped, but Sakura ignored him.

The Suna man’s arm dropped to his side, his body going limp on the bed the medics had been trying to force him onto. Sakura moved her hand up to his head, checking his pupils. “Can you hear me?” 

“Ngh,” he managed. 

“Can you speak?”

His head lolled to the side so he was looking at Sakura properly, his eyes heavily lidded now. “Ha-hai.” 

“Good. Can you tell me what happened?” 

“Akiko…” 

“No, don’t look at her. I need you to pay attention. Can you tell me what happened?” 

“Suna—”

“Yes, we already know about the attack,” one medic snapped.

“Shut up,” Sakura reprimanded. “Go on. What about Suna?” 

“We tried,” the man said but it seemed that speech was too difficult for him. 

The sound of angry hissing filled the corridor, echoing in the suddenly silent space. 

“Kazekage-sama,” the man rasped, trying to sit up before flopping back to his bed.

“Kichiro. What happened?” Gaara’s eyes flicked to the woman in the Konoha shinobi’s arms then back to Kichiro. 

“We went—we went… Suna. They said—recon. Find… Find out…” He stopped talking, going still, his chest rising and falling unevenly as the effects of Sakura’s jutsu forced him to sleep. 

“What’s happened to him?” 

“He’s just unconscious, Kazekage-sama,” Sakura assured. “I had to sedate him. He was resisting my fellow medics when I arrived on the scene.” 

Gaara nodded. "Tend to him.” The other medics jumped to attention, pushing the bed towards a room at the other end of the corridor. Gaara turned towards the Konoha shinobi and the dead woman in his arms. 

“I—I'm sorry, Kazekage-sama,” the man stuttered, eyes shooting back and forth like a trapped animal. “S-she was dead when I found them. There was nothing I could do.” 

Gaara let out a shaky breath through his nose, hands clenched at his sides. “Take her to the morgue.” 

“Ha-hai!” the shinobi said, rushing to comply. 

“Damn, Gaara,” Kankurou drawled, leaning against the wall beside Lee. “This doesn’t look good, does it?” 

“Who sent them to Suna?” Gaara said a hard edge to his voice. He didn't look at his brother, his gaze firmly rooted on a few drops of blood on the floor. 

“Not sure, but if I had to hazard a guess I’d say it was the council.” 

“I see.” 

The rhythmic clacking of wooden sandals on tile echoed from the far end of the corridor. Gaara lifted his head, staring down the hall at Tsunade. 

“You’re out of bed, I see.” 

“Two of my shinobi were just brought in. One was dead.” He narrowed his eyes. “We’re leaving for the Land of Iron today. I won’t delay this meeting any longer.” 

Tsunade closed her eyes and after a brief moment she nodded. “Fine, but only if you stay put while we prepare everything. And you,” Tsunade said, pointing at Lee, “should also be in bed. Do I need to break your legs to keep you there?” 

“I am very sorry! I was just on my way back—”

“I don’t care. Just go. Sakura, make sure Lee returns to bed and stays there.” 

“Hai, Hokage-sama!” Sakura bowed, before quickly steering Lee back the way they’d come. “I guess things are going to be happening even faster now,” she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder. 

“And that is why I cannot wait to get better." 

***

Kankurou hated the Land of Iron, and not just because it was cold.

The memory of that first meeting sat at the forefront of his mind, like the chattering voice of his puppets but less reassuring. Gaara’s current condition did not ease the anxiety those memories brought with them, and as their journey wore on his brother’s health seemed to decline. Though Gaara remained stubbornly stoic throughout, with the only signs of his discomfort in the subtle strain of his hands or the press of his mouth, Kankurou knew. He wished, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that Suna had not been attacked. They had all been prepared for casualties of war, but to have their village taken from them was a blow Kankurou knew Gaara was still smarting from. Injuries aside, his brother put so much of his heart into the village and the loss of it was far more damaging than the physical harm the attack had caused. 

Kankurou glanced at Gaara, for the umpteenth time that day, catching his brother’s irritated gaze. He gave him a cheeky grin, despite the ever growing knot in the pit of his stomach. It was just a trick of the light, he tried to convince himself. Gaara was not actually paler today than yesterday. 

“We should be there soon,” Temari said, pulling up on Gaara’s other side. Kankurou watched as Gaara’s expression went blank. 

“It would be wise to slow down,” Kakashi added from behind them. He was running alongside Tsunade, Shizune on her other side. “We don’t want to be caught unawares.”

Gaara slowed, gaze intent upon their path. 

“It’s unlikely the Mizukage will be there until tomorrow,” Tsunade said. “Possibly even later. Iwa and Kumo are much closer than Konoha, but Kiri—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gaara interrupted. “As long as we set things in motion. We can’t delay things as we have been.” 

“I hardly call what we’ve been doing delay,” Tsunade said.

Shizune nodded. “It takes work to plan a war, and we’ve been organizing things as best we can. Konoha is still rebuilding after the last time Akatsuki attacked, and we had to organize Naruto and Killer Bee’s—”

“Shizune,” Kakashi barked. “Be careful what you say. We’re not within the village anymore.” 

Shizune snapped her mouth shut with an audible clack. 

“Silence is the best course of action,” Gaara said quietly, now several paces ahead of the group, snow crunching lightly underfoot. “Until we reach the meeting hall, we should practice discretion.” 

Tsunade snorted, shaking her head. “Brat.” 

They fell silent, pressing onward, tension spreading within their small group the nearer they drew to the chosen meeting point. If Akatsuki chose to attack, they would overwhelm them, regardless of the presence of two Kage. 

Once again, Kankurou counted the ways he hated the Land of Iron. 

***

“Not a bad set up,” one of the Kumo shinobi was saying when the Konoha and Suna group arrived, led to the meeting hall by a samurai. “It’s too bad the last place got so trashed.” 

“We are in the process of repairing it, but it has proven inconvenient,” Mifune said amicably. “Ah, Hokage-sama, Kazekage-sama, it’s good to see you have arrived. Please take a seat.”

“We’re not starting already, are we? The Mizukage—”

“Departed from her village earlier than the rest and will arrive tomorrow, but in the meantime, you can relax after your long journey.” 

“We should start drafting up plans for our respective villages," Gaara said. 

“Don’t be so hasty,” the Tsuchikage said. 

“You’ll excuse my haste: my village was attacked and is now in Madara’s hands.” 

The Tsuchikage snorted, crossing his arms. Mifune raised a hand, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “I understand that you are anxious, but it would be rude to begin without all present. Though times are desperate we should not insult our allies. Don’t you agree?” 

Gaara let out a slow breath. “Very well.” 

“I’m sure you all must be hungry.” Mifune motioned to the samurai who had led them to the meeting hall and the man departed. “Food will arrive shortly. Please, sit.” 

The table was long enough for the Kage and their guard, as well as for Mifune and his own samurai guards. Gaara took a seat near the end, away from the others, his siblings following him like shadows. He was tense and in pain and found sitting didn't help him any, not after pushing himself the whole journey to Iron. If he had to sit, it should be sitting down to a war council not dinner. Having to wait much longer for the meeting to begin put him in a terrible mood, and he didn’t have the energy for socializing and political banter. 

“You didn’t meet any trouble on the way, did you?” the Raikage asked as they settled. Tsunade shook her head. 

“Seems odd,” the Raikage went on. “Why hasn’t he made any more moves since attacking Suna?” 

“I think talk of war should wait,” Mifune said, commanding but gentle. “I am sure the Hokage and Kazekage are tired.” 

Silence fell on the gathered village leaders like a thick veil, tension spreading around the table. It was one thing to talk of war amongst allies, but to dine with them was another matter. Gaara shifted in his seat carefully, glancing up the table. 

“What of the hosts?” the Tsuchikage asked. “Surely we can talk about them.” He eyed Mifune, as though daring him to argue otherwise. 

“I suppose, if it will put you at ease,” Mifune said, inclining his head. 

“Naruto was sent with a small guard,” Tsunade said instantly, clearly eager to discuss the matter. “He reached the island safely, not too long before the attack on Suna.” 

“They will be safe,” the Raikage said with a nod. “Bee and the Kyuubi are perhaps safer than all of us, even on an island infested with beasts.” 

“I still think we should be using them in this war,” the Tsuchikage grumbled. 

“And we agreed it would be foolish,” Gaara intoned. 

“I didn’t agree to that,” Tsunade countered. “I agree with the Tsuchikage.” 

“What has been decided does not need discussing,” Mifune said by way of halting the conversation. The door opened a moment later and a line of women entered, bringing with them trays of food and tea. “Ah, and now it’s time for dinner. We’ll dine, and then you will retire to your rooms. Tomorrow afternoon, we will begin our war council.” 

***

The Mizukage did not arrive until two days after Gaara and Tsunade, and she arrived with bleak news. 

“Madara is spreading out his forces,” she said without preamble as they sat down to meet. “We had to take a detour to make it here without alerting him to our movements.” 

“That is unsettling news,” Mifune said before anyone else could comment. “The delay will cost us, but with the five Great Nations banded together I am sure we will prove stronger than he has estimated.” 

“That’s not a comfort,” Tsunade said. “And we’re two days behind. We need to make plans. I don't want to see more damage done to our villages.” 

“I agree. We want to keep the war from spreading into the villages at all costs. Raikage, as commander, what do you propose?” 

“The map,” the Raikage said, standing to lean over the table and look at the map in question. “Over the last few days, I've reviewed the information we have on Madara’s movements to try devising the best method for combat. With our combined forces I had thought—however, with the news that these shinobi Madara has at his disposal…” 

“No matter what plans we make, an army of undead shinobi is hardly something we can fight against,” Tsunade said. “But if we can find a way to attack them—”

“The source,” Gaara said. “We need to find the source of the army. Someone must be controlling them, and if we can stop that person we stand a better chance.” 

“And if we can’t find the source? Hell, what if the source is just as impossible to kill?” The Raikage crossed his arms over his chest, looking around the table at each member in turn. 

"Then we need another way," the Mizukage said. "Surely we can come up with something—a technique of some kind to stop them?" 

"What would you suggest?" the Tsuchikage sneered. "The dead have risen! That's not something we've ever faced before."

The Mizukage narrowed her eyes. "I'm sure we'll get far with that attitude, Tsuchikage."

“Perhaps,” Tsunade said, her voice rising, “a medic-nin could figure out a way.” All eyes turned to her, the quiet of the room suddenly oppressive in anticipation. She narrowed her eyes, her gaze focused on a distant thought. “These shinobi are, as you said, Oonoki, the dead risen, well medic-nin specialize in life and death. We can deal out life; rejuvenate the body; or we can tear it apart from the inside, create sickness with just a touch. If these shinobi have been brought back from the dead, then perhaps a medic-nin could send them back to the Afterlife.”

Silence met Tsunade’s statement. 

“We’ll need to provide the best medics we can. At least three from each of our villages—more if we can spare them,” the Raikage said after a long pause. “We can find a safe place for them to work within one of our villages. Wind Country is obviously out of the question, but—”

“Perhaps one of the smaller villages,” Mifune suggested lightly. “Of course, they are also welcome to do their research here in Iron. We would make sure to keep them well guarded.” 

“Thank you, however, Tsunade-hime, if it would not be too much trouble, it would be best if you oversaw the efforts of the medics. You are without a doubt, one of the most skilled medic-nin this world has yet to see. You would pick the very best shinobi, and we would find a way to fight them faster. We can discuss this further later on when we have a list of potential candidates for the team, but if you do oversee the medical team, then it would have to be stationed in Konoha.”

Tsunade shook her head. “I may be the best, but overseeing such a team—Konoha is hardly safe right now. We're still struggling from Pein's attack.”

"Then I think Iron would be your best bet," Mifune cut in.

The Raikage sighed. "Very well. Tsunde, I'd still like you to look over the list of potential candidates. You're still the most qualified to lead a team like this."

"I agree. Whatever teams you wish to send will be approved by me."

“Good. Now, I want to go over the best course of action for setting up the war zones and creating guards. We need to be prepared for anything. Mizukage, where did you see these shinobi of Madara’s?” 

The Mizukage stood, leaning over to point at the map. “The quickest way to Iron from Kiri is a straight trek across Hot Water Country, then into Rice Field and beyond. Once through the smaller northern countries, we enter Earth where we take the trade routes through the mountains. It was as we were crossing Rice Field Country that we nearly crossed paths with the enemy. If not for Ao, we would not have made it here alive.” 

“Rice Field Country?” Tsunade asked, her eyes wide. “Otogakure—”

“I thought Oto was no more. Orochimaru’s base was destroyed, wasn’t it?” the Raikage asked.

“Is he really our concern right now?” the Tsuchikage grumbled. “If the Daimyo of Rice Field was willing to allow such a man into his country, it’s not so hard to believe that he’d also fall in line with the likes of Madara, is it?” 

“I suppose not,” Tsunade agreed reluctantly. 

“Please continue, Mizukage-sama,” Mifune said. 

“Because of this, we had to move farther north. We ended up charting a boat from Noodle Country. I didn't want to risk running into anymore trouble.” 

The Raikage gave a thoughtful hum. “This means we need to station a guard along the border of Fire and Rice Field, as well as ones along the border of River Country and Wind. Hokage, Kazekage, you said you did not meet trouble on the way, correct?”

Gaara and Tsunade nodded. “We had to avoid several areas within Fire where enemy shinobi had set up camp, but were able to travel straight through by taking a northward route. We passed along the boarder between the smaller countries before entering Earth. I don't recall sensing anything once we'd left the forests of Fire.” 

“Good, good.” 

“And what about you, Raikage? You would have passed through Rice Field Country on your way here, correct?” the Tsuchikage asked, archly. 

The Raikage shook his head. “We traveled across the gulf. It was a straighter path than going on foot, and considering my village is guarding the hosts I did not want to delay.” 

“That was smart,” the Tsuchikage said, though somehow it did not sound like a compliment. 

The Raikage snorted. “Perhaps. However, we were delayed regardless, and it might have been better to scout the land.” 

Gaara shook his head. “No, it was wise to avoid the trek across so many countries. Whatever weakness not knowing presents, it is best that you didn’t put yourself at risk.” 

“So we can assume that Rice Field is dangerous, at least,” Mei said. “And, of course, Wind, but we are unsure of the other countries and shinobi villages. How should we proceed?” 

The Raikage took a moment, his brow furrowed. “Konoha and Suna are currently the weakest. However, Konoha now has an advantage with two shinobi forces within one village. Fire Country is large, so the doubled shinobi presence will do it good, especially considering this news about Rice Field. I suggest, Hokage and Kazekage, that you organize your shinobi and send out patrols. We need to create a border watch in the event Madara attempts to attack Konoha while it’s weak. He might try looking for the Kyuubi there, after all, and as it stands, there is already a strong enemy presence within the forests of Fire. We have no way of knowing if the enemy is simply laying in wait or if an attack on Konoha is being staged. You should focus on strengthening your defenses, and if possible, I suggest uncovering what you can about those enemy encampments.

“With that in miind, the key places for patrols to protect Konoha are here,” he went on, pointing at the Valley of the End, “and all along here,” he drew his finger along the border of River and Wind, which had been marked in red ink. “The red denotes the borders I think we need to defend the most. If you have precise locations of the enemy encampments, feel free to mark them on the map.” 

The other Kage and Mifune looked closely, noting the places marked. Lightning Country had a red line drawn along the southern coast, while all of the land surrounding Wind had a red line drawn along its borders. Gaara's gaze lingered on the section of the map that denoted Wind Country.

“What does the blue mean?” he asked, taking note of the many blue circles peppering the map. 

“The blue are war zones. In the event that skirmishes break out, I’ve set up locations that will hopefully allow for the least damage to all the villages, including non-shinobi villages. If a group is attacked, they are to lure the enemy to one of these locations.” He pointed to the largest blue circle, which was in the southwest of Fire country and bled into River. 

“There aren’t any in your country,” the Tsuchikage pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “I can understand why you would only put one in Water country, but not a single one in Lightning?”

“That’s because we want to keep them as far from the hosts as possible. If the enemy overwhelms us in Lightning, it could prove to be a crushing blow. I won’t risk the tailed beasts. It is still possible, of course, that we will be forced to fight within my country, but if we can avoid it, we will.” 

The Tsuchikage grunted, crossing his arms. “Very well, very well. And what of Wind? Why are there so few war zones there? If Suna is already taken—”

“The desert is a harsh place,” Gaara interjected. “It is unwise to send shinobi not used to the heat into battle there. Moreover, Suna is being used by Madara. It would be walking into enemy territory.” 

“You’re assuming that Madara is within Suna?” the Tsuchikage asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it was one of his pawns that had attacked your village.” 

“We don’t know if Madara is within Suna,” Gaara said evenly. “But he has taken control of it. If we are running on the assumption that Madara himself is using Suna as his base of operations, then it would be prudent to maintain our distance until we have gathered our strength.” 

“Can we find out if Madara is within Suna?” the Mizukage asked. 

Everyone glanced at Gaara expectantly. “It is risky. While I was unconscious, the council sent a team of ANBU to Suna. Only one of them returned to Konoha alive. Kichiro’s account of the mission was incomplete at best. He was not well when he returned.” 

“We should form a team to scout Suna and the rest of Wind Country,” the Raikage said. “We’ll need to find out for sure what is going on without alerting the enemy to our presence. It will be a no combat mission. Simply retrieve as much information as possible. You will be in charge of organizing this, Kazekage.” 

Gaara inclined his head.

“It would also be in our best interests,” Mifune began, “to move the Kaze Daimyo to a safer location. All of the Daimyo, in fact, would benefit from being moved.”

“I was going to suggest that,” the Raikage grumbled. “We also need to extend a hand to the smaller shinobi villages. Alliances are our strongest weapon, isn’t that right? Rain, Grass, Waterfall—every village is at risk during this war, not just our own. If they stand with us, we can aid them as they aid us.” 

“Then we should send envoys to each of these villages as soon as possible,” the Mizukage said. “The faster we obtain allies and finish preparing our troops, the better.” 

“If you would like to send letters to your villages tonight so that envoys can be prepared in the meantime, I will make preparations.” 

“Do we want to risk that?” Tsunade asked. “What if the letters are intercepted?” 

“Precautions will be made, Hokage-sama,” Mifune assured. “But it seems that envoys should be sent on the double.” 

“I agree,” the Raikage said. “There are too many villages; we can’t wait to send the envoys. Also, after taking into account the smaller villages, I realized we need to set up perimeters around the non-shinobi villages, as well. Every one of you will be responsible for alerting the villages within your country of the threat of war, and any small neighboring countries will also need to be informed. It is my hope that we can keep the war from spilling into non-shinobi lands, but we need to be prepared in the event that it does. Unfortunately, the tribes and villages in the desert will be harder to reach, but if there is any way that you can get in touch with them, Kazekage, it would be for the best.” 

“I can include that as part of our objective when we scout Suna.” 

“Very good,” the Raikage said. He tapped the map, drawing everyone’s gaze back to it. “This here,” he said, pointing to the Nagi and O’uzu islands, “will be where we send the Daimyo. We'll send them to Modoroki Shrine. We need to prepare decoys, as well as guards for their journey, which I’ve mapped out.” He dragged his finger along a green path from the capital of Fire to Modoroki Shrine. There were five green paths, all leading to the shrine on the islands far enough away from shinobi land that the Daimyo would be safe.

“Also, as you can see, I have charted safe houses in the event any of our villages are attacked. There are three safe houses: one on Nagi Island near the shrine, one at the boarder between Nagi and O'uzu, and one near Todoroki Shrine on O'uzu.” 

“I’m curious,” Mifune said when the Raikage was quiet for a moment. “The army Madara has at hand is made up of shinobi. How will you tell the difference between shinobi from your villages who are living and Madara’s undead shinobi?” 

“A portion of Madara’s army is made up of shinobi all in black that cannot be touched,” Gaara said. “My siblings faced off against them and could give a more detailed description, but I believe they will not be difficult to distinguish from our own.” 

“And of those not in black? You cannot expect everyone to recognize shinobi they have never even heard of.” 

“Then we’ll need a code,” the Raikage said. “We’ll come up with a code for our shinobi to use when they come across unknown shinobi.” 

“That is wise,” Mifune said, nodding. “What should it be?” 

“Something simple,” the Tsuchikage said, “but not easy to figure out.” 

They fell silent. 

The Mizukage tapped her finger on the table thoughtfully, the sound clicking through the room like a beetle crossing the desert. Gaara closed his eyes and asked, “What is your Nindo?” 

“What?” the Raikage snapped. 

“My shinobi way is hope,” he continued as though no one had spoken. “My shinobi way is to fight for that hope and bring peace.” 

Tsunade smiled slowly and Mifune nodded. 

“Wishy-washy little brat,” the Tsuchikage muttered. “I like it, though.” 

Gaara inclined his head in thanks, his mouth curved up in the smallest of smiles. 

“Then it’s settled. When shinobi come across one another, they will ask what Nindo they practice. As long as the answer is hope and peace, then they are allies.” 

“The five Great Nations as one, united by the hope for a peaceful future,” Mifune mused. “Though tragedy will certainly fall upon us all, we must take a moment to appreciate what this war has done for your nations.” 

Silence fell as the five Kage and their guards did as Mifune had requested. Though it seemed hard to believe, there was a small light of hope, shining within that darkness. 

“We are one army now,” Gaara said.


	4. Dispatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War isn't all about fighting. It's about strategy. The Five Great Nations plans are set in motion: border patrols, recon missions, and desperate alliances are formed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing how easy it is to forget to update a fic when you have cons back to back to back and then get promoted at work. You would think it'd be easy, given the fic _is_ finished--but of course I'm a perfectionist and I still have a bunch of editing (mostly on later chapters) to do. But my friend is dragging me back into Naruto hell, and it rekindled my desire to finish editing this. I'm not promising frequent updates because I do work a lot more now that I'm a manager, and I need to start getting ready for next year's convention season, but I've got a few more chapters that are mostly pretty solid and don't need much in the way of editing that I can try posting soon. Hope y'all enjoy this update! Thanks for reading!

“Gai-sensei?! Gai-sensei! What is wrong with him? What has happened?! Gai-sensei!!!”

“Lee-san, please step back. I can’t do anything with you—”

Lee looked at Sakura with wide, watery eyes, his lip trembling. “Sakura-san, please help him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Sakura said sternly. “Lee-san, I think you should go back to your room. You’ll only upset yourself—”

“But I cannot! I need to make sure Gai-sensei is all right!”

“He will be, but only if you let us do our job. Please, Lee-san, Gai-sensei will be fine, but you’re only going to delay his healing if you stay here.”

“Sakura,” one of the other medics said, “hurry. His vitals—” Sakura shot the man a warning look that Lee caught. He scrunched his face, tears falling freely and snot dribbling from his nose. “Lee-san—”

“I cannot leave him!”

“Go now or I’ll make you!”

“I refuse!”

“Dammit, this is no time to—Oh, thank goodness! Neji, get him out of here!”

“Lee, let’s go.”

“No, I—” Lee’s words died and his eyes drooped. “Sa-Sakura-san, wha—”

“I’m sorry, Lee-san, but it’s for your own good. And Gai-sensei’s.”

Lee’s vision swam and he slumped forward into Neji’s arms. “What did you do to him?”

“It’s nothing,” Sakura murmured, pulling her hand away from Lee’s back, the green halo around it fading. Lee watched her, sniffling pitifully. His arms and legs felt weak and heavy, and if it weren’t for the fact that he knew Gai-sensei was injured he might have taken a nap right there. 

“Sa-ku-ra-san,” he said thickly. “Please. I need. Gai-sensei—” He reached out, trying to pull away from Neji, but he could barely lift his arm. It felt as though it were being pulled down with weights so impossibly heavy that there was no hope of ever training enough to lift them. Lee’s lip trembled and his shoulders shook, but he was too tired to properly cry now. 

“Get him out of here.” 

“I’ll be back to check on Gai-sensei,” Neji said, adjusting Lee so that one of his arms was draped over Neji’s neck. “Tenten is here; I’ll have her watch Lee.” 

“That’s fine,” Sakura said, closing the door on Gai’s room.

Neji dragged Lee down the corridor, his expression neutral. Lee had always hated how cool and calm Neji could be; even in times of crisis Neji never seemed to break. “I cha-challenge—” he slurred, his tongue running away from him. He realised his chin was wet and he reached blindly up with his free hand, still much too heavy, and slapped weakly at his face in an attempt to wipe away drool. 

“Lee, stop it.” 

“I am…drooling. I hope…Sakura-san…did not…see.” 

“I don’t think she’d care.” 

Lee’s head lolled forward in a weak nod. “Challenge…” 

“Later, Lee. When you are not upset.” 

“I am…I am the Beautiful…Blue…” 

Neji sighed, the sound loud in Lee’s ear. He struggled to pull away, managing to stand up on his own for a second before slumping into the wall. He glared at Neji, raising his arm slowly in challenge. “I am—”

“Lee, what are you doing?” Tenten said, poking her head out from Lee's room.

“Trying to challenge me,” Neji said dully. “Sakura had to sedate him.” 

“Why?” 

“Gai-sensei was brought in.” 

“What? Is he all right? I thought he was with Naruto.” 

“I'm not sure what happened. When I got there Lee was making a fuss.” 

Tenten sighed, coming up to Lee’s side and gently taking his extended arm. “Come on, Lee. You shouldn’t be challenging Neji like that. You’re weak—”

“I am not!” he cried angrily, shaking his head once violently and getting a crick in the neck for his troubles. He winced, taking in a shaky breath, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his face.

“No, I didn’t mean—oh, Lee, I’m sorry,” Tenten said softly, patting his shoulder. “You are strong—one of the strongest shinobi I’ve ever met!—but right now you’re injured. Please, Lee. I’m worried about Gai-sensei, too, but we can’t lose our cool over that, right?” 

Lee let out a pitiful sound as Tenten wrapped an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, and guided him back to his room. “Gai-sensei,” he murmured.

“I’ll be back,” Neji said before closing the door behind them.

***

“You summoned me?” Shikamaru asked, his tone weary. He’d been in the middle of a nap only five minutes ago, lying outside under a tree and enjoying the peaceful afternoon. It seemed best to get as many peaceful afternoons in before the war was truly underway, but then the elders had called on him and interrupted all plans for a pleasant day.

“We have received word from the Kazekage and Hokage,” one of the Suna elders said, disdain in each word. He was an old man with beady eyes and a nose like a bird’s beak. Shikamaru thought he looked like the sort of mean old man who would throw stones at children playing in his yard. “They wish to send envoys to the smaller shinobi villages to form alliances in preparation for war.” 

“Okay,” Shikamaru said warily. 

“We would like you to lead this envoy. You may pick any shinobi from Suna and Konoha to accompany you on this mission. You have two days to prepare your team. Once you are ready, you will head to Amegakure and Tanigakure. Your job is to convince them to help us create a border along Wind country.”

Shikamaru stifled a sigh. “Great. I’ll get right on that.” 

“Until the Hokage and Kazekage return,” a Konoha elder said, “you will report to us. Once you have formed your team, please turn in a written copy of the group you have put together.” 

“Right,” he said. “When will the Hokage and Kazekage be back?”

“At the time the letter was sent, they said the council would be in session for at least three more days. They should be returning within the next two weeks.”

Shikamaru nodded. “Should we double the guard until they return?”

“We’ve already done that.”

“I meant again,” he clarified. “It’s not as though we’re short on man power.”

There was a long pause as the councel exchanged looks. Finally, a Konoha elder nodded. “Very well. We shall inform the Captain of the Guard at once. You’re dismissed.” 

Shikamaru bowed and left quickly before the council could remember some other difficult task they wanted him for. Once outside, he took in a deep breath of fresh air. “Troublesome,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking down to the village’s main street. 

***

“I can’t believe he made you a general,” Kankurou grumbled, pulling his cloak tighter. They were almost through the Land of Iron, but the weather wasn’t likely to get better anytime soon. 

“I am a bit surprised as well,” Gaara admitted. As a Kage, he thought he was a failure; to be in charge of an entire division was an honour he was sure he didn't deserve. 

“It makes sense,” Kakashi said from up ahead. “You’ve proven yourself to the other Kage. You stand up to them, despite your age, and they have seen proof of how you handle dangerous situations. A lesser person might have let not only their village, but their people fall to Akatsuki. You saved your people and, in doing so, saved your village.” 

Tsunade snorted. “Don’t inflate his ego, Kakashi. He’s stubborn enough as it is. When we get back, you’re going right back to the hospital, war be damned.”

“Very well, but I will not be kept from the mission in Suna. I will rest while we make preparations for the journey.” 

Tsunade shook her head, but didn’t argue. 

“Do you think our message reached Konoha?” Temari asked. 

“Mifune assured us that the hawks in his aviary are highly trained,” Gaara said. “We took every precaution we could. It is up to fate to decide whether our messages reached our villages or not.” 

“Man, do we have to keep talking about this?” Kankurou grumbled. “It was bad enough listening to you guys plan this thing out for four days, but I could use a break.” 

“It will not be a very long break, Kankurou.”

“Yeah, yeah. But even a short break is enough for me. I don’t want to have to think about this war until we get back to Konoha.” 

“I have to agree,” Shizune said. “It was quite exhausting listening to that.”

Tsunade laughed. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re only in charge of forming the medical team then.” 

“Don’t remind me, Tsunade-sama! The list of medic-nin from each village is too long! How am I supposed to put together a suitable team?” 

“I’ll help you,” Tsunade promised. “Sakura is my top choice from Konoha, though there are others. Who is the most skilled medic-nin in your village, Gaara?”

Gaara was silent for a moment, going over Suna’s many shinobi in his head. “There are several, however, I believe the best in the field is Midori. She comes from a family of medic-nin; her father was the best in the field until he was killed during the attack on my village.” 

Shizune nodded. “Then she and Sakura will be directly under me. I can have them lead their own divisions. We’ll get more work done that way.” 

“Good,” Tsunade said. “I would have taken it on myself, but I agree that this team needs to be somewhere safe—a hidden village is one of the most dangerous places to be right now.” She narrowed her eyes, scanning the area. “But I think Kankurou and Shizune are right: a break from all this talk of war is what we need. We’ll be back in Konoha in five short days, and then we can talk of war until we are all thoroughly sick of it.” 

“You mean you aren’t sick of it already?” Shizune asked, her expression gone suddenly weary. 

Tsunade sighed and the group fell silent as snow began to fall. 

***

“They can’t really do much until the Hokage gets back,” Neji said, watching Lee carefully. He’d passed out not long after Tenten had forced him into bed, Sakura’s jutsu having finally lulled him to sleep. Neji didn’t trust Lee to stay asleep for long, though.

“But when will that be? It’s been nearly a month since they left, and Gai-sensei—” Lee groaned, shifting restlessly in his sleep. Tenten lowered her voice, eyeing Lee carefully. “Gai-sensei can’t be out of commission that long. He’s as bad as Lee when it comes to this sort of thing.” 

Neji frowned. “I wouldn’t say he’s quite that bad, but I take your point.”

“And isn’t Lee supposed to be discharged today? I know they wanted to wait for the Hokage’s approval, but he’s obviously fully healed. He’ll be even more of a nuisance if Gai-sensei is here too.”

“I think he’ll be one regardless of whether or not he’s allowed to return to his training, Tenten.”

“Yeah, but at least if he’s training he won’t always be here to bother everyone.”

“You can’t believe that.” Neji watched Lee roll over, muttering inarticulately, his thick brows furrowed. “He’s more likely to sit at Gai-sensei’s bedside than train.” 

“You know if he does, it’ll rile Gai-sensei up. And then he’s liable to try training with Lee when he should be resting.” 

“I’d really hoped we were done with babysitting excitable, injured fools.” 

“Don’t be so mean,” Tenten snapped. 

“I’m only stating a fact.” 

“I know, but Lee’s our teammate and Gai-sensei is…” She sniffed, turning to stare out the window, wrapping her arms around herself. “They both overdo it so much,” she said, softly. “If they aren’t careful—I’d rather have them in the hospital than out there.” 

“You know they’d only be miserable.” 

Tenten forced a laugh. “I know. ‘Nothing can contain the Fire of Youth’, right?”

Neji smiled slightly, moving to stand beside Tenten, brushing his shoulder against hers. “They would drive everyone crazy if they were stuck here in the middle of a war,” he agreed. 

Tenten nodded, her eyes bright in the sunshine. Neji pretended he didn’t notice the tears rolling down her cheeks, turning his gaze to the view of Konoha, still half in ruins. 

“I’m scared,” Tenten whispered. “Not of dying or anything like that, but of losing one of them…or you.” 

“We’re shinobi, Tenten. Our lives are always in danger.” 

“I know, but it’s different now. It’s war, Neji. And we’re fighting against people we can’t even—we can’t even fight!” she cried, pressing her hand to her mouth a moment later. They both turned to look at Lee, but he was still blissfully unconscious. “I just don’t want to lose any of you.” 

“I can’t make any promises; that’s Lee’s job.”

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you. When I need naive optimism and promises that can just as easily be broken as kept, I’ll tell him. But right now, I just need you to know that I’m scared.” 

Neji nodded, watching her from the corner of his eye. Tenten sighed, leaning her forehead against the window and closing her eyes. 

“Tenten,” Neji said when the silence had stretched between them. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m scared, too.” 

***

“Hokage-sama, Kazekage-sama, welcome back!” the guards at the gate said together, relief clear in their voices. They bowed the group into the village before hastily closing the gates.

“It looks like the repairs are going nicely,” Kakashi said as they walked past new buildings and piles of rubble. 

“I’m just relieved to see this place still standing. This is the worst time to be away from the village. And for so long,” Tsunade said.

Gaara hummed his agreement, clenching and unclenching his hand in an effort to keep from wrapping his arms around himself. His ribs ached horribly from the long journey, and with everything in motion he felt more inclined to rest now than he had previously. 

“To the hospital with you,” Tsunade snapped, giving Gaara the impression that he had been doing a poor job of hiding his discomfort. “I won’t have you keeling over in the middle of the street. It’s liable to upset your people and cause a riot. Now, hop to it. Shizune, go rest. As soon as you’ve done that I want you to get started on that list.” 

“Hai, Hokage-sama!” Shizune bowed and departed, heading for the shinobi flats at the center of town. 

“Kakashi, you too. I’ll confer with the councils today and we can begin forming the teams necessary to implement what we discussed at the meeting.” 

“Hokage-sama. Kazekage-sama.” Kakashi bowed and then disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

“Kankurou, Temari—”

“Not so fast, little brother,” Kankurou said, holding up a hand. 

“You’re not getting rid of us that easily. We might be shinobi, but we’re family first, and you need to get to the hospital.” Temari grinned. “So let’s go.”

Tsunade didn’t bother to hide the triumphant smile on her face as she led them to the hospital. Gaara’s knuckles were white by the time they arrived, but he barely had the chance to appreciate the amount of pain he was in before he was forced into a wheelchair and sent off to a room, Temari pushing the chair along, Kankurou and Tsunade on her heels. 

“This is unnecessary,” Gaara growled. “I can walk.” 

“Nothin’ doin’, little brother,” Kankurou said, reaching out to ruffle Gaara’s hair. Gaara pulled away, scowling up at Kankurou. “You don’t actually think we didn’t notice you struggling on the way back.” 

“I wasn’t struggling,” Gaara said flatly. 

Kankurou chuckled. “Sure looked like struggling to me. Whad’ya think, Temari?” 

“Oh, he was struggling all right. But it’ll be our little secret.” 

“And if you don’t irritate me too much, perhaps I’ll keep it,” Tsunade chimed in. Gaara glared back at her, crossing his arms over his chest. It wouldn’t be difficult to escape his escort, but he didn’t feel inclined to waste his energy. As much as it pained him to admit it, he did need the assistance. 

As they moved through the hallway, a door opened ahead and Sakura emerged, a frown on her face. 

“Hokage-sama!” she exclaimed. 

“Sakura,” Tsunade said with a nod. 

“We weren’t sure when you’d return,” Sakura said, joining the group on their way to Gaara’s room. “Gai-sensei was brought in—”

Tsunade groaned. “Oh, no. What did he do this time?” 

“He opened the Seventh Gate. He was unconscious until yesterday. I’ve been tending to him, but I think it would be best if you took a look at him.” 

“Of course. I’ll stop by once I’ve made sure the Kazekage is in bed. Is Lee still here?” 

“No, Hokage-sama. He was discharged five days ago, the same day Gai-sensei was brought in.” 

“Damn, did he cause trouble?” 

“Of course, but I took care of it.” 

Tsunade smirked. “Of course you did.” After a moment, she seemed to remember something and she stopped, whirling on Sakura. “Wait. Maito Gai was with Naruto and Killer Bee. What happened? Is Naruto all right? Have they been compromised?” 

“N-no, Hokage-sama! Gai-sensei was brought in by a Kumo shinobi, but he didn’t know much. All he said was that Naruto and Killer Bee were still safe before he left. When Gai-sensei woke, I spoke with him and he confirmed that Naruto and Killer Bee were both still hidden.”

“What happened?” 

“He was still pretty out of it, but he said that they were attacked by someone from Akatsuki. Kisame, I think it was.” 

“Damn. Did he say anything else?” 

“Nothing of importance,” Sakura said. “We'd heavily sedated him because he was in so much pain and he refused to stay still once he'd woken up.” 

“Typical. All right,” Tsunade said with a sigh. “I’ll be there shortly. Thank you, Sakura.” 

Sakura bowed. “Hokage-sama,” she said, then left, going back the way she’d come.

Kankurou whistled, drawing it out, long and low. “Damn. Well, that’s certainly bad news, isn’t it?” 

“I truly hope not, but it doesn’t seem as though luck is on our side,” Tsunade agreed tersely. “If Gai reveals anything important, I’ll let you know.” 

Gaara nodded. “We didn’t think to find a backup safe house for Naruto and Killer Bee,” he noted. “That was a mistake.” 

“It’s beginning to look that way. Let’s hope it doesn’t cost us.” 

***

“Shit,” Izumi breathed as she stumbled to the ground, skinning her knee. She pressed herself against the trunk of the tree the roots of which she’d tripped over in her haste to hide. 

Blood dribbled from her lip; her left arm hung uselessly at her side with the bone jutting awkwardly out, poking through the skin and blood flowing freely. She ripped a portion of her shirt, using it as a makeshift cloth, pressing it to the wound and biting her bleeding lip to keep from crying out. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” she chanted, banging her head against the tree. 

Waterfall village was in ruins and the enemy had set up camp, several shinobi Izumi recognized from the bingo book included among their ranks. Her eyes watered and she knocked her head against the tree again, making herself dizzy.

“Think,” she snapped, looking around the area. She needed to inform the Tsuchikage immediately. They had to prepare to defend Iwa and they needed to warn Kusagakure, but she didn’t want to risk revealing herself. She’d already lost the rest of the team she’d ventured to Waterfall with; two of them had been killed instantly, and the other two had been behind her as they’d run for cover but they’d been gone the next time she’d glanced back. 

“Oh, god, what do I do? What do I do?” she whispered, breathing heavily now, her heart racing. 

_“'What do I do? What do I do?'”_ someone mocked from above. “Tch. How annoying.” 

Izumi snapped her head up to look into the tree, her eyes wide. A young girl, no older than fifteen, with bright red hair, was sitting on one of the branches, twirling a flute between her fingers. 

“Stay back! I’m armed!” 

The girl smirked, bringing her flute to her lips. “Oh, scary,” she simpered and then she began to play. 

The world swam before Izumi’s eyes, colours bleeding together and the trees losing their shape. Her stomach churned and she tried to press herself against the tree, but she didn’t even know if it was there anymore. She closed her eyes. “This is just a Genjutsu,” she told herself sternly, her voice shaking. 

“Are you sure about that?” a new voice asked. There was a man leaning against nothing—at least as far as Izumi could tell—with too many arms, like a monster from the nightmares she’d had as a child. “I mean, it looks real enough to me, don’t you agree, Sakon?”

“Oh, yes,” another man, this one with two heads, said from behind her. Startled, Izumi half-crawled, half-dragged herself quickly and awkwardly away from the tree, trying to put some distance between them. “Tayuya hasn’t lost her touch, has she?” 

“Fuck you,” the girl snapped. The world began to right itself for an instant, but she went back to playing quickly. 

“Get away!” Izumi cried as the two-headed man advanced. “I-I’ll kill you!” She pulled from the pouch around her waist a kunai, holding it before her unsteadily. 

“Looks like she’s got spunk,” Sakon said. “I like that. Can’t we keep her? She’d be so much fun to play with.” 

“And she’s cute,” Sakon’s other head said. Izumi whimpered, pushing herself further away. 

“She dies,” another voice said from behind her. “We can’t risk her getting away from us.” 

She turned around slowly, staring with wide eyes at the white-haired man before her. His rib cage was sticking out of his body and he was holding a sword of bone at his side. Izumi fell onto her injured shoulder as she tried to skitter away and let out a pained cry.

“You’re no fun,” Sakon and his other head grumbled together. 

“You’re a pig,” Tayuya said, jumping from the tree. 

As the world righted itself again, Izumi dragged herself away from the bone-man, but there was nowhere to go. Another man stood directly in her path, larger than the rest though still less intimidating than the white-haired bone-wielder. 

“Oi, fasto,” Tayuya snapped. “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna grab her?” 

“Don’t call me that,” he said, leaning down and picking Izumi up by the collar of her shirt. 

“Oh, look, you _can_ teach stupid dogs tricks,” Tayuya drawled. 

“Bitch,” he muttered. 

“Silence, both of you,” the white-haired man said. He took a step forward, holding his sword up to Izumi’s face. “Where are you going?” 

Izumi shook her head, trying to pull away.

“We could torture her for information,” the extra head on Sakon suggested. 

“That won’t be necessary. The others are dead and look here.” The white-haired man pointed to the hitai-ate at Izumi’s waist. “They’re from Iwagakure.” 

“Oh, aren’t you perceptive, Kimimaro,” Sakon said. “Guess that’s why you’re the boss.” 

Kimimaro hummed. “Why were you here?” He trailed the point of his sword against Izumi’s cheek, drawing blood.

“I-I won’t tell you.” 

“Tch, figures. Fucking noble to the last, aren’t you?” Tayuya sneered. 

“I can torture you,” Kimimaro said lightly. 

“Then torture me!” Izumi shouted, squaring her jaw. It was clear that she was going to die here, but she would not die a traitor. The Tsuchikage would figure out that something had gone wrong soon enough. She only hoped her village would be safe. 

“Very well,” Kimimaro said. Izumi closed her eyes, taking in a deep, steadying breath. As the sword went singing through the air, her last thought was for her little sister, who she hoped would grow up in a peaceful world, remembering Izumi as a hero. 

***

Tsunade knocked twice before pushing the door to Gaara’s room open. Kankurou was sprawled in one of the chairs at Gaara’s bedside, snoring every now and again, while Temari sat with her head in hand, facing out the window, her eyes closed. Gaara opened one eye to look at Tsunade. 

“I didn’t wake you, I hope,” Tsunade said, closing the door. 

“I don’t sleep.” 

Tsunade frowned, pulling a chair up to Gaara’s bedside. “But the Ichibi—”

“It is a habit I have not broken,” he admitted, adjusting his position. “Are Naruto and Killer Bee safe?” 

Tsunade sighed. “Yes, thank goodness. Gai was forced to open the Seventh Gate while fighting against one of the remaining Akatsuki members. He was victorious, at least. Unfortunately, they were unable to retrieve much information from Kisame.” 

Gaara was silent for a moment, Kankurou’s snores the only sound in the room. “Did he overdo it?”

“No, no. It seems that Kisame killed himself in order to prevent us from discovering anything. However, the hosts are safe.” 

“For how long, though? I don’t doubt Madara’s reach or his strength.” 

“I’m not a fortune teller. I hope they're not discovered, but who knows? We can send word to the Raikage about our concerns. I’m sure he’s already been informed of the attack, and he’s already got a strong guard stationed along the coast. For now, we'll just have to hope that guard is enough.” 

“And what if Naruto discovers what is happening?” 

Tsunade snorted. “You can’t honestly think that anyone could stop him from joining the war if he wanted to.” She shook her head. “No, it would be a waste to worry about that. We need to keep all able shinobi on the front line, not waiting to cage Naruto in when he’d only fight us off.” 

Gaara nodded slowly, reluctant to admit that Tsunade was right. “We need to be prepared if he does join the fray. Perhaps a team can be formed to guard him.” 

“That can be arranged. In the meantime, we have other teams to put together.” 

“Quite a lot of them,” Gaara agreed. “I would like to take mostly Suna shinobi with me to Wind Country, but I would accept and be grateful for Konoha’s assistance if there are any shinobi able to handle the desert.” 

“There aren’t many Konoha shinobi used to it, but I do have a few. Sakura will be busy working with Shizune and Midori, but Gai’s team has been to Suna before and so has Kakashi. I trust you would be happy for their assistance. You've worked with them in the past, after all.” 

“I remember,” Gaara said quietly. He glanced towards the window. Temari was now sitting up straighter and her eyes, though lidded, were no longer fluttering in sleep. “Kakashi is trustworthy, Lee as well. His teammate, Hyuuga Neji, would be useful.”

“Just those three?” 

“I have little use for a weapon’s master or an artist on a mission like this.” 

Tsunade leaned back in her chair. “And how many of your people will you take?”

“My siblings will join me,” Gaara said. Kankurou snorted, his body jerking before he went suddenly quiet. Gaara glanced at him, then back at Tsunade. “And I will bring along three others: ANBU.” 

“Kichiro, I presume,” Tsunade said. 

“I had considered him for the job, and two others. I’ve already given this quite a bit of thought. I want to leave before the end of the week. Come tomorrow, we will begin preparations.” 

“That’s fine, but you will stay in bed,” Tsunade said. “Your siblings are more than capable of dealing out your orders and I’ll inform Kakashi, Neji, and Lee of their part in this mission. You can leave Friday morning, but no earlier.” 

Gaara stared blankly at Tsunade before nodding. “That is acceptable. I will also begin preparing teams to help create a border-watch. Do you know if the envoy has been sent?” 

“No, I was going to check on that next. I’m sure our councils have enjoyed running things here in our absence. Well, I’ll let you rest,” Tsunade said, standing. “A medic should be by later on to check on you. I'll be back tomorrow morning to go over further plans.”

Gaara nodded and Tsunade left. Once the door had closed behind her, Kankurou opened his eyes.

“I really hate war,” he growled, sitting up. Temari snorted. 

Gaara didn’t say anything, settling back against his pillow and closing his eyes to go over the newly formed team. 

***

“Why do you two get to go on a mission and I don’t?” Tenten whined, leaning forward in her chair. Lee was sitting at Gai’s bedside, frowning seriously and Neji was standing by Tenten, arms crossed. 

“It was the Kazekage’s decision,” Neji said. “I don’t know why he chose us and not you.” 

“And my Eternal Rival!” Gai half-shouted, almost sounding like his old self. “If only I were at my best! I would accompany you on your journey!” 

“Perhaps the Kazekage would let you go in my stead, Tenten,” Lee said, looking suddenly petulant.

“Lee!” Gai cried. “Why would you turndown such an honourable mission?! The Kazekage has personally called for you on this quest. You cannot say no!” 

“But, Gai-sensei!” Lee exclaimed. “You are injured; I should be at your side.” 

“Your duty is to Konoha, Lee,” Gai said seriously. “You must go and honour my teachings as you venture forth into the desert! Clearly, you have proven yourself a splendid ninja if the Kazekage has asked for you!” 

Lee’s eyes watered and he had to fight back the urge to embrace his sensei in a firm hug. He nodded quickly. “Hai, Gai-sensei! I shall do my utmost best to make you proud and honour my shinobi way!” 

“Yosha, Lee! Ah! I feel energized! Perhaps Hokage-sama will allow me an hour of exercise today.”

“I will exercise with you, Gai-sensei!”

Gai beamed, giving Lee a thumbs-up, which Lee mimicked cheerful once more. 

“She’s going to say no,” Tenten warned, her voice light and teasing. 

“But I am much improved!” Gai declared, sitting up to demonstrate this fact. He winced as he moved, laughing a moment later at Tenten’s knowing look. “Perhaps I could use a bit more rest! But surely a bit of light exercise would do me good!” 

Neji snorted. “When do you ever exercise lightly?” 

“Ah, yes, it is difficult to resist the allure of such physical activity! The burn of exertion, the wonderful feel of stretching, the youthful vigor!” 

Lee was beside himself as he bounced in his seat, no longer able to contain his excitement. “Gai-sensei!” 

“Lee!” 

“Oi!” Sakura cried from the doorway. “I thought I told you that if you can’t keep yourselves calm Lee-san couldn’t visit.” She crossed her arms, glaring at the embracing, teary-eyed pair. “Lee-san, please, Gai-sensei needs to heal!” 

“It is not my beloved pupil’s fault!” Gai said quickly. “I was overcome by the mere thought of exercise and Lee, in the Prime of his Youth, could hardly resist joining in!” 

Sakura tapped her foot impatiently. “Gai-sensei, please try to stay calm. I know that you’re all happy to be reunited, and we’re all happy to know that both you and Lee are feeling better, but if you overdo it you’ll just be here longer. And the Hokage won’t be happy if I have to report to her that you’ve gone and injured yourself again.” 

“You are right, of course,” Gai said, slumping against his pillows. “Being so confined is difficult, but it is for my own good! Lee, go out and train for me! Give it your best so that you are prepared for your mission and do not worry about me. I will join you again when I can!” 

Lee stood up, his back straight, and saluted. “Hai, Gai-sensei! I shall train extra hard so that I may become even stronger!” 

“That’s the spirit!” 

“Neji, Tenten” Lee said, turning to his teammates, “would you like to join me?!” 

“Ah, Lee, I actually need to run a few errands,” Tenten said, quickly evading the offer. 

Lee’s eyes watered for a moment, but he recovered and looked hopefully at Neji.

“No.”

“But Neji!” Lee wailed. “We must prepare for our mission!” 

Neji shook his head. “Tomorrow, perhaps.” 

“Yosha! Then tomorrow I shall meet you bright and early for a bought of exhilarating training! Is six all right?” 

Neji sighed. “I’ll see you at nine.” 

“All right! But be prepared to lose, my Eternal Rival! I shall definitely become stronger today!” 

Sakura watched as Lee marched out of the hospital room and down the hall, his eyes alight and his hands balled in determined fists. Gai was wiping tears from his eyes and Tenten was shaking her head. 

“He’ll be back before you know it,” she said, smiling fondly. 

“If he does, let me know,” Sakura said. “Gai-sensei, you really shouldn’t encourage him. You need to rest more than you need to train.” 

Gai gave her a thumbs-up and a brilliant smile. “You have my word that I shall refrain from giving in to the Excitement of Youth!” 

Sakura sighed. “Make sure he gets some sleep before Lee-san gets back.” 

“Don’t worry, Sakura,” Tenten said. “We know how to handle them. After all, they’re our teammates.” 

Sakura closed the door, relieved to know that her second most difficult patient would not be injuring himself further that night.

***

Scrolls were piled on the table, resting atop maps and diagrams of the shinobi villages and the terrain in which the war zones had been established. Tsunade rubbed her temples, staring blankly ahead at one pile of scrolls in particular. 

“How many more teams do we need?” 

“About ten, Hokage-sama,” Nara Shikaku said, unrolling one scroll and scanning it quickly. “We’ve deployed about fifteen teams of Konoha and Suna shinobi in total; five were sent to inform the non-shinobi villages and the other ten were ordered to start scouting. We still need to form the border patrols, however.” 

Tsunade groaned. “Can you handle the rest of this? I need to check on Shizune. She should have the medical team formed by now.” 

“Hai, Hokage-sama,” he said. 

Tsunade’s back cracked loudly as she stood; she’d been sitting hunched over maps for far too long that day. The day had been endless: filled with war preparations, dancing around the councils, and paperwork—Tsunade hated the paperwork during wartime—and still the day wasn’t over.

Shizune was pouring over a long scroll, the end of which she’d thrown over her shoulder, when Tsunade arrived. There were ink marks on Shizune’s face and bags under her eyes, but Tsunade was relieved to note that her assistant was looking rather triumphant, if a bit wide-eyed. 

“Shizune, how is the list coming?” 

Shizune jumped, knocking over a bottle of ink and nearly falling out of her seat. “Tsunade-sama! You startled me,” she said, flushed as she cleaned up the spilled ink.

Tsunade shook her head, smiling. “You’ve been working hard. Is that list almost done?” 

“Hai! I’m just going over what the other villages sent one last time, to make sure that there isn’t anyone else worth adding to the teams.” 

“How many divisions do you have, Shizune?” 

Shizune blinked once, before pulling a scroll from beneath another one. “I’ve made five: one for each village. I’ve combined the shinobi in each group to balance our skills. Midori of Suna will head up one division, Sakura will head up another, and then I have a young man from Kiri, a woman from Iwa, and a young man from Kumo. They’ll be in charge of their own divisions, but each one will answer to me. 

“I thought it would be best if we played to each villages’ strengths in medicinal jutsu. Sakura’s already getting things together. She’s met with Midori and they seem to be working on different theories, but right now it’s only busy work.” 

Tsunade nodded. “It sounds good. Perhaps we’ll have this figured out before too long.” 

“We’ll do our best, Tsunade-sama.” 

“Good. Why don’t you rest? You can finish double-checking this tomorrow. I want you, Sakura and Midori to leave for Iron when the Kazekage leaves for Wind—you can send for the other medics after you’ve arrived—so you have plenty of time to make final adjustments.” 

“But I really should finish this now. I can wait a—a—” Shizune yawned hugely, and Tsunade had to stifle a tired laugh. “I suppose I could do with a bit of rest.” 

“Go,” Tsunade said. “I’ll go over what you have now and tomorrow you can finish up. It’ll give you a day to rest before the real work begins.” 

Shizune nodded. “Thank you, Tsunade-sama.” 

Tsunade waved her off, taking up Shizune’s place and setting to work. 

***

The team that crowded into Gaara’s hospital room was an odd jumble of people. The three ANBU Gaara had picked—Kichiro, Yana, and Sayuu—stood at attention, their faces blank and eyes hard; Lee stood, his face as expressive as Gaara remembered and his eyes just as wide, while his teammate's stoicism was on par with the ANBU present; Kankurou and Temari didn’t look anymore enthused about the mission than they had the day before; and Kakashi was leaning against the wall, his nose in his book, though Gaara doubted he was paying it any attention. 

He shifted slightly and everyone in the room stood a bit straighter. Kakashi closed his book.

“In two days we’ll be leaving for Wind Country and for Suna,” he began, his voice low. “Our primary objective is to obtain information. This is not a combat mission; we are not attempting to reclaim Suna, we are merely to discover if Madara is there and what Akatsuki is doing. If you are forced to engage in combat, then so be it, but do everything in your power to retreat. Our secondary goal is to see to it that the people of Wind are made aware of the dangers now within the country.

“You will need to pack for a long mission. We cannot be sure how long it will take us to gather enough information, nor can we guess what the conditions will be like. For those of you not from Suna, make sure to bring enough water and light clothing. You should have received, by now, a pair of goggles and a headdress. These are for your protection against sandstorms. Do not forget them.” 

Gaara paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, his gaze traveling down the line. Lee seemed to be the only one in the company with any enthusiasm for the mission. 

“Aizo,” Gaara said and Kichiro stood a bit straighter, responding to his new codename. “You are the only one who has been within Suna since Akatsuki’s takeover. You will head up a division with Temari and Neji.” Temari huffed, the only sign of her disapproval she would allow in the presence of others. 

They’d already had an argument over the teams Gaara had formed. Though he could appreciate that his brother and sister wanted to remain at his side, he could not think about bonds for such a dangerous expedition. 

“Kakashi,” Gaara went on. “You will lead another team with Kankurou and Yana. And finally, Sayuu and Lee will be with me. I’ve arranged the teams to allow for the most efficent surveilance possible, as well as the best defense in the event we are forced to fight. We will remain together until such time as I see fit to split up. Kakashi, Aizo, you will report to me every three hours once we’ve separated. After we have made camp, we will go over further plans.” 

Everyone nodded as one, bowing slightly, except for Lee who bowed the deepest of all. 

“Report at the gates at six on Friday morning. Dismissed.” 

The group filed out, save for Temari and Kankurou, who returned to their seats at Gaara's bedside. Lee was the first to begin speaking once outside in the hall, his voice loud and cheerful. 

“I will pack tonight!” he was saying as he left with his teammate before the door closed behind them.  
Gaara turned to his siblings, looking them both over quickly. “You should rest.” 

“We’re good,” Kankurou said. 

“That wasn’t intended as a request.” 

Temari snorted. “That’s not going to work, Gaara. We’re staying.” 

“I’m not an invalid.” 

Kankurou shrugged, sharing a look with Temari. “Not really the point though. We’ll pack tonight and double-check things tomorrow, but we’re staying right here.” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes, but there was little he could do barring forcing them from the room. “Tomorrow night I expect you to get rest in a proper bed.” 

“Beds are overrated.” 

“Perhaps, but you need your sleep. You’ll regret it once we’re far from anything resembling the comforts of a village.” 

“He’s got you there.” 

“He’s got us both there, sis.” Kankurou stretched, yawning. “Still think we should be on the same team.” 

“It’s not open for debate,” Gaara said. 

“Yeah, yeah, but I can still complain, can’t I?” 

“You can, though I'm not promising I won't force you from the room if you do.” 

“I just don’t get why you had to split us up. We work well together.” 

“Yes, but we’re also at a disadvantage. If we’re forced into close combat, as a team, we lack the skill to take on an opponent at close range. The teams have been formed based on each person’s fighting style and to provide adequate surveillance.” 

“They’re good teams, Gaara,” Temari agreed. “We just don’t like that we’re not on yours.” 

“I had to consider things differently for this mission,” he said, his irritation growing. Gaara didn’t particularly like being separated from his family and teammates, but circumstances were different and he could not rely on familial bonds to protect them in the face of invincible foes. “We’ll be together until such time as we need to break into teams,” he added, noting that Temari's disapproving look hadn’t faded.

“D'ya think he’s really there? Madara, I mean,” Kankurou asked suddenly. 

Gaara was silent for a moment, staring at the far wall. He didn’t know one way or the other if Madara was in Suna, but if he was they would find out and hopefully quickly, though he wasn’t counting on that. 

“I can’t say for sure,” he said finally. “Aizo was unable to enter far enough into the village and what he did see was not promising. As far as Madara goes, it is a possibility, but not a guarantee. We’ll find out soon enough though.” 

“Yeah, just hope they don’t see us. I don’t fancy fighting those guys again.” Kankurou shuddered, pulling a face. “They were fucking creepy.” 

Temari nodded. “It was like fighting a ghost.” 

“A ghost,” Gaara repeated flatly. 

“Yeah, well, ghost or no, if the medics figure out a way to fight ‘em, I’ll be happy for it. I’m sick of these bastards cheating like that.” 

Gaara nodded, settling against his pillows and going over Temari’s words once more. What chance did the living have in a war against the dead? 

***

Shikamaru had never considered himself a smoker. He hadn't even liked the taste of cigarettes all that much when he'd picked up the habit during his quest for vengeance. But he couldn't ease the nagging desire for one as he stood outside the council room, watching the rain fall on Amegakure. 

"Hey, Nara," a familiar voice said behind him. 

He stifled a sigh and glanced around, nodding at the unexpected and not altogether welcomed new arrival. 

Kaiou Hei offered Shikamaru a smile. He and his team had been tasked with aiding the Konoha and Suna envoy and, more importantly, with keeping an eye on the foreign shinobi. Though Amegakure had tried to brush it off as goodwill and hospitality, the lack of trust they had in Shikamaru and his team was evident in assigning the grandson of one of the elders to keep watch on them. 

"So, you lookin' for a break from the ol' geazers? Gotta tell you, if you're trying to hide, this isn't the best place." 

"I'm not hiding," Shikamaru said, his brow twitching. He turned back to the view of the village. "I just needed some fresh air." 

"Gets stuffy in a council meeting, huh?" 

Shikamaru nodded. 

"You want a smoke?" 

"I don't smoke." 

There was silence for a moment, then a snort. "You sure about that? It's a good way to relax after a long day." 

"This suits me," Shikamaru said dully. He pushed off the windowsill, turning around. "Where's Hinata and the others?" 

"Checking the perimeter with Aki." 

"Who?" 

"My teammate. He'll take care of them." 

Shikamaru hummed thoughtfully. "The big guy, right?" 

"Uh, yeah. Why?" 

"Just curious." 

"Saki said she'd join them later, she just had some things to take care of." 

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. "And you?" 

Hei paused. "What about me?" 

"I don't need your assistance, Kaiou." 

Hei's smile slipped slightly. "You can call me Hei."

Shikamaru didn't bother to respond, moving to the doors that separated him from the council. 

"You sure you don't want to grab a smoke? You look like you need it." 

"I don't smoke," Shikamaru reiterated, stifling another sigh. "You should go back to helping my teammates. I have business to finish up here." 

"Well, maybe I'll see you later." 

"Only if it's on business." 

Hei laughed, his smile returning as just the slightest quirk of his mouth, the cocky self-assurance Shikamaru had come to dislike in him showing through. 

Shikamaru shook his head, pushing the door open. The room was humid and cramped, a small table crowded with the three Ame elders took up most of the space. He closed the door on Hei's over-confident expression, giving a relieved sigh as it clicked in place. 

"Have you had time to consider our proposal?" one of the elders asked curiously, her voice as creaky as her bones. 

"Yes, I have. I need to send word to Konoha, but I don't see any problems with it." 

"Very good, very good. We're risking a lot for your war—"

"And we're offering you protection in exchange. Madara won't leave your village alone just because you choose not to fight." 

"Yes, yes, we've already gone over that. But that doesn't change anything," another elder, the youngest, said. "We're a small village with limited resources and our Kage's death was a serious blow to our village. While Madara was the culprit, seeking revenge on such a powerful enemy is…not prudent. What you ask is a great burden on our shinobi." 

Shikamaru side-stepped the obvious bait. "I'll send word to the Hokage and Kazekage tonight. If they agree, you'll send troops to the non-shinobi villages immediately. Once we've had council with Tani, I will send word to you. If they are willing, your villages would be best suited to head the border watch on Wind Country." 

Another elder coughed.

"Yes?" 

"I take...issue," he wheezed, "with this plan." 

The other two elders gave great sighs. "We know, Kaiou-dono, you have made your opinions very clear." 

"I have?" he asked, raising his fuzzy eyebrows. He stared seriously at Shikamaru. "Who are you again?"

"Nara Shikamaru. I'm an envoy from Konohagakure." 

"Konoha, eh? How is that ol' fool then? Sarutobi still got that monkey—"

"The Sandaime is dead," the old woman snapped, rolling her beady eyes. "The Slug Princess runs the village now." 

Kaiou grinned, leering at Shikamaru. "Oh, yes, the Slug Princess. She is a fine one. Still has buxom as ever, eh?" 

"What is your issue with the plan?" Shikamaru asked, not inclined to discuss his Hokage’s attributes, physical or otherwise.

"The plan? What plan?" 

"Oh, fiddlesticks! Ignore him. He's hardly any use to us," the old woman snapped. "We agree with your plan. When your Hokage has agreed, we will send aid to the non-shinobi villages. Once Tanigakure has made its decision, we will speak further about this border watch." 

Shikamaru bowed. "Thank you. Konoha and the other great nations are in your debt." 

"Damn right you are!" Kaiou cried, waving his fist in the air. "I'll be expecting payment immediately. No appreciation for the little guys! Serves you right needing our help. You mark my words, you cocky bastard, if you're village goes against its promise—" 

"I assure you, Konoha and Suna will not go back on their word." 

"You're dismissed," the youngest elder said, before Kaiou could say anything else. 

Shikamaru bowed and left quickly, not quite relieved to find that Hei wasn't outside waiting for him: a smoke really did sound rather good right then.

***

"Please make sure to apply this every day," the medic said. Gaara gave him a level look, ignoring the jar he held out. Temari took it with a huff.

"What's it do?" Kankurou asked. 

"It'll help with the pain from his injury." 

"How is his injury?" Temari asked, disapprovingly. 

"Better, but one of the bones didn't heal quite right and unfortunately we'd need to re-break it in order to fix it. It should only cause minor discomfort, but otherwise you're in perfect health, Kazekage-sama." 

"Hear that, little brother, you're not as tough as you thought," Kankurou teased. 

Gaara glared, but otherwise remained quiet. 

"Thank you, Takimura," Temari said, before the medic was caught under Gaara's glare once more. 

"It was nothing," he said quickly and bowed out of the room. 

"Looks like you'll need to be more careful," Kankurou began. "You sure you don't want us on your team for this mission?" 

"Shut it," Temari snapped. "I'll pack this with your things, Gaara. We'll see you in the morning." 

"Very well," Gaara said evenly. 

"Don't be so touchy," Kankurou said, walking to the door. "I bet when everything's back to normal and this war is done, you could even get one of the kunoichi back home to be your personal medic." He gave Gaara a look, one eyebrow raised and smirk on his face. 

"I don't need assistance." 

Temari snorted, shaking her head and shoving at Kankurou's shoulder. "Let's go, idiot." 

Kankurou chuckled. "Yeah, okay. See you in the morning." 

Gaara nodded, waiting until the door had closed before pulling the paperwork he'd been in the middle of before his check-up towards him. The many tribes in Wind Country would need to be relocated, but that was not an easy task without enough able-bodied shinobi. As of right now, Amegakure was willing to cooperate, but that still wouldn't be enough to aid the people of his country. 

He sighed, closing his eyes. There was a dull ache in his right side where the bone that hadn't healed properly was; it was minor now, but he could only imagine how bad it would be once they left Konoha. He did not handle pain well and, more importantly, he was now at an even greater physical disadvantage. Most of Suna’s shinobi were mid to long range fighters, and Gaara was no exception. Hand-to-hand was not his specialty and it never would be, no matter how many hours he put in on the training field. The same applied to his siblings and, to a lesser extent his ANBU. However, the Konoha shinobi he’d chosen for this mission were skilled at hand-to-hand—experts even—which added a necessary balance to the teams and eased some of Gaara’s concerns. 

There was a flicker of chakra and then Kichiro appeared, his mask pulled down over his face. “Kazekage-sama. You wished to see me.”

“I need to speak with you and your teammates, as well as Hyuuga Neji. I want to go over several things about the mission with you four.” 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama.” 

“Everyone is to report here in half an hour. Dis—” 

"Sumimasen!" a familiar voice outside called, interrupting Gaara. The door opened and Rock Lee stepped inside, looking over his shoulder at someone in the hall. "Please forgive me, I am just in a hurry!" He turned around, smiling brightly as Kichiro vanished as though he’d never been there. "Gai-se—Oh! Ka-Kazekage-sama! I am so sorry! I did not realise!" He bowed quickly, his cheeks reddening. 

"Lee," Gaara intoned. 

"I did not mean to intrude. I am searching for Gai-sensei." 

"You do not know what room he's in?" 

"Ah," Lee said, straightening. "He has been moved, but no one has been willing to tell me which room he is in. I overheard two medic-nin speaking and I thought they had said this room, but I clearly misheard them! I truly did not mean to intrude! I should have remembered this was your room! I will leave. I hope you are feeling well and I shall—"

"Are you prepared for tomorrow?" 

Lee blinked, pausing in the doorway. "Oh yes! I have already packed and double-checked everything! And I plan to do another check before I retire for the evening and again in the morning!" 

Gaara nodded. "Did you receive the note I sent?" 

Lee looked down. "I-I did, Kazekage-sama." 

"Good." Gaara gave Lee a level look. “You will leave them behind then?” 

"I—yes, Kazekage-sama. Although, I am concerned. How will I hide my weights from the enemy without my legwarmers? They will know my secret." 

"And they will still underestimate you." 

"How can you be sure?" Lee asked, frowning. 

"Because you are strange." 

Lee opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, his brows drawn together. Gaara watched him curiously for a moment. 

"It is a good thing," he continued when Lee did not say anything and his usual energy remained absent in the wake of Gaara’s statement. "You are stronger and faster than anyone else, but they will think you are weak for your strangeness. Much as I did when we first met." 

Lee's expression lit up, easier to read than most of Suna’s non-shinobi citizens. Gaara could appreciate that in him, even if at times he wondered how someone so honest could be such an able shinobi. "I will do my best," Lee promised. 

"I know." Gaara nodded, focusing once more on the scroll before him. 

"Good night, Kazekage-sama." 

"Your sensei is at the end of the hall," Gaara added as Lee turned to leave. "Be sure not to excite him." 

"Hai, Kazekage-sama. Thank you very much." 

The door closed and Gaara glanced up, pondering Lee's strangeness for a brief moment before returning to his work. 

***

Lee had always stood firmly by the idea that the early bird caught the worm and, like with everything else, he took this to the extreme. The Kazekage had said to meet at the gates by six, so exactly an hour before six, he was standing before them, bouncing on the balls of his feet, an overlarge backpack on his back. 

He didn't mind waiting—in fact, he welcomed it. It would give him the chance to do a light bit of stretching before beginning the journey to Wind Country. 

Lee dropped his backpack, aware of the many guards now stationed along the gates watching him. The Suna shinobi who now assisted in guarding the walls of the village were easy to spot next to their Konoha brethren. Lee turned away from them and took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly before dropping into the splits in one quick motion. 

"Lee." 

Lee looked up to see the Kazekage standing before him with his siblings flanking him on either side. Kankurou's eyes were still caked with sleep and Temari's hair seemed to have been haphazardly thrown up in its usual style. Gaara was the only one who looked as though the early hour didn't bother him. 

"Good morning!" Lee greeted cheerfully, beaming and waving from his position on the ground. 

Kankurou growled, wincing as he looked Lee over. "What the fuck are you so happy about?"

Lee grimaced, but in the spirit of propriety forced himself to ignore such crass language. "It is a beautiful day and we are about to embark on an honourable mission! I am looking forward to assisting in any way I can!" 

"Goddammit," Temari groaned. "You would be a morning person." 

"Is there something wrong with that?" 

"No," Gaara said. "I am glad you are here early. We only need to wait on the medical team, Kakashi, and your teammate. As long as everyone arrives soon, we can leave early." 

"What about—?" 

"They've gone on ahead to scout." 

"Ah! Of course! That was a very wise move, Kazekage-sama." He grinned, giving Gaara a thumbs-up. 

"Are you going to sit like that all morning?" Kankurou asked, his voice pained. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"Could you stand with the rest of us?" 

"Oh! I—well, of course I can! I was just doing a bit of stretching to prepare for the journey." 

"Yeah, well, you've stretched enough," Kankurou grumbled. 

Lee pushed himself part of the way up on one hand, then jumped up swiftly. He still had his legwarmers on, which had not gone unnoticed by the Kazekage. Gaara's eyes were rooted to them, narrowed slightly. 

"I promise to take them off once we reach the desert," he assured. "I did not feel comfortable traveling without them in the forest. Forgive me for not asking ahead of time." 

Gaara nodded. "That is acceptable." 

There was a flicker of familiar chakra and a moment later Kakashi appeared, nose in his book. "Yo." 

"Good morning!" Lee enthused. Gaara and his siblings offered small nods. 

The group fell silent, as none but Lee were inclined to talk. Lee bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, once again feeling too jittery to stay still. He glanced from one familiar face to the next, wondering if anyone would be willing to partake in conversation. Though Kakashi and Gaara didn't seem to mind the early hour, they appeared content to stand quietly, waiting on the others; and Lee judged that Kankurou and Temari were liable to hit him if he tried to engage either of them in conversation. 

The pale grey light of the morning stretched as they waited and soon enough a group of people could be seen approaching them. Lee instantly spotted Sakura's pink hair and began waving frantically, pleasantly surprised to find that she would be joining them on their journey. 

"Sakura-san!!!" 

"Someone gag him," Kankurou growled, snapped out of his stupor. 

"Someone's testy this morning," Sakura said, coming up to the group. She didn't look much happier to be awake, but she seemed to be handling it better than either of the Kazekag's siblings. "Good morning, Lee-san." 

Kankurou snorted. "Can we go yet?" 

"My Eternal Rival is the only one keeping us from an early departure! Would you like me to go and fetch him, Kazekage-sama?" 

"That won't be necessary," Gaara said. The Kazekage glanced past the medical team, drawing everyone's gaze to the figure of Neji not far from their group. 

"Ah! Then we are all here and ready for the mission! Good morning, Neji!" Lee waved wildly, grinning like a madman. 

"I'm going to kill him if he's this chipper every damned morning," Kankurou grumbled. 

"Get in line," Temari agreed. 

Lee glanced at them, frowning severely. "There is no reason to be so hostile." 

"Just ignore them," Sakura whispered, giving him a supportive smile. 

"It's not even six," Temari pointed out.

"Yes! An excellent time to start the day!" 

"How do you put up with this?" Kankurou asked when Neji was within earshot.

"Practice," he said. "And patience." 

Lee huffed, his feelings deeply hurt. 

"That's enough," Gaara said. Everyone turned to look at him. "This is not the time to bicker. Our teams will be traveling together for several days until we've reached the border between River and Wind. Once there, my team will rendezvous with the rest of our group and Shizune's team will continue on to Iron.

"We will take no more than three days to reach the rendezvous point," Gaara added, turning on his heal. "Shizune, do you have anything else to add?" 

"No, Kazekage-sama." 

Gaara signaled to the guards to open the gates. "Be on guard at all times," he advised. "Let's go."


	5. Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most important weapon during war is knowledge: knowledge of the enemy, knowledge of your allies. Obtaining that knowledge is not always easy, and every delay can be incredibly costly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't intended on posting again so soon, but given that it's been nine months I just thought "what the hell?" Plus, I had the day off from work and nothing going on. I hope people are enjoying this so far... I know it's probably slow going right now, but things pick up a lot more soon. I think, though, that if you really enjoy politics then you should be enjoying this :D At least I hope so. OCs are going to start playing more important roles in the overall story as it progresses, so I hope that everyone enjoys them. I promise they aren't going to dominate, but I do love them and hope everyone else does too. I would love to hear thoughts on them and everything else! And I always welcome constructive criticism or grammar fixes!

Izumi stared at the Tsuchikage, her face a forced show of relaxation. She felt like a trapped animal, watching through the bars of its cage as its fellows were tortured. Only her comrades were ignorant to the knives slowly cutting into them, and with such ignorance they would eventually bleed out without attempting to tend to the wound. 

The Tsuchikage looked up from the report Izumi had brought with her, his expression openly pleased. Her hand was tense at her side as her own desires battled with whatever force had brought her back from the Afterlife. The strain was unnoticeable, though, even to a trained eye because it simply wasn’t there to see. She had observed it in her comrades and knew it was reflected in herself: relaxed expressions, blank of any tension or unease, and muscles not fighting against an invisible grip. They were the ultimate spies for the enemy now and they were powerless to stop it. 

"This is promising," the Tsuchikage said. Izumi wanted to close her eyes to keep from seeing him falling into such a trap, but she was too weak to act upon the desire; she hated herself for being so incapable. "Shibuki wishes your team to return. You made a good impression, Izumi." 

"Hai, Tsuchikage-sama," she said, her voice strained to her own ears. She already knew the contents of the letter, had in fact watched as Shibuki had been forced to write it, listening to her murderer dictate it while his teammates laughed.

"Go get some rest," the Tsuchikage said, putting the scroll aside and hopping down from his elevated seat. "You all look worn. At the end of the week, you will return to Takigakure. Shibuki wishes to begin strategizing at once. I'll prepare all the information you need."

"Tsuchikage-sama—" The rest of her sentence stuck in her throat, as though someone had wrapped their hand around her neck and squeezed. She nearly choked on the need to speak, but even as she struggled she knew there was no hope. The Tsuchikage could not see the distress on her face because it did not show through the calm countenance painted on her face.

She and her teammates bowed in unison, turned and left, but Izumi's movements were stiffer and she lagged behind, desperate to tell the Tsuchikage the truth. 

"Was there anything else?" the Tsuchikage asked. 

"N-n-no, Tsuchikage-sama," she said, her hand gripping the door handle with nearly enough force to crush it if only she had the control over her own body. 

"Then you are dismissed," the Tsuchikage said. "I have things to do." 

"I understand." She nodded, stepping out of the room and closed the door behind her. 

***

“There’s a blue tag 850 meters ahead,” Neji reported, his eyes narrowed on a kunai embedded in a tree too far for the others to see. “It’s southwest of us.” The only answer Neji received was the sound of the leaves rustling on the wind. They had barely spoken since leaving Konoha—even Lee had managed to remain quiet—save for when Neji needed to inform them of approaching tags. 

The team the Kazekage had sent ahead had been tasked with marking a safe path through the forest. Neji had reluctantly disclosed information about his Byakugan to them the night before leaving, thus allowing them to form a working method for safe travel. However, it was slow going; two and a half days into the journey, they were still two days from the meeting point, having been forced to take several detours to avoid danger. 

Neji turned to the group, waiting patiently for the Kazekage’s verdict.

“That’s good news, right, Gaara?” the Kazekage’s brother asked.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “We’ll take a short break, then continue on.” 

The group descended from the trees, landing silently. There was a dull ache behind Neji’s eyes and he was grateful for the chance to rest them, if a bit reluctant to do so. His last mission outside of Konoha had shown him the many dangers that lay in wait, and nearly two months of waiting had done nothing for the safety of the forest. It was now teeming with shinobi, all of whom Neji could barely make out, their chakra strangely dull and another darker fog-like chakra swirling within them. At the moment, the nearest enemy—for Neji knew they were there, whether he could see them or not—was outside of his range of sight.

Once on the ground the Kazekage began setting up a perimeter, his brother and sister watching the area like hawks protecting their young. Kakashi’s book was already out, and Lee and Sakura quickly began unpacking a small portion of food, while Shizune and Midori watched, both tensed to attack at the slightest sound. Neji blinked slowly, careful not to keep his eyes closed for too long. 

“What are the coordinates of the next tag?” the Kazekage asked, interrupting Neji’s concentration. 

“Forty-five degrees north, fifty-one degrees west,” he responded promptly. 

“That should have us moving towards River Country.” He waved his hand idly and a pillar of sand rose up, creating a resting place for the map. “We’re here,” he said pointing to their coordinates. “We’ve been moving steadily north since yesterday, which has us closer to Kusagakure than we’d like considering our objective lies in Wind.

“With luck, we’ll continue straight toward the rendezvous point in River. Tsunade spoke with Mifune about the samurai escorting the three of you to Iron,” he said, glancing up at Shizune. “They’ll be meeting us there as well. Remember to be on guard at all times, however. Anyone you are not familiar with is an enemy until proven otherwise.” 

“Hai,” everyone said in unison. 

“We’ll be taking fewer breaks now,” the Kazekage added. “Eat as much as you can. We won’t stop again until nightfall.” 

***

“It’s been five days,” Sayuu said, watching the horizon, her face a blank mask of calm collectedness. Kichiro noted the slightest crease in the corner of her mouth where all her worries could be seen—at least to those with trained eyes. 

“With the detours they had to take, it isn’t surprising,” he offered by way of reassurance. 

Yana threw her kunai in the air, eyes narrowed on the figure of a bird flying overhead. The blade sliced the bird’s wing, sending it free-falling through the air. It landed a few yards off with a soft splash. 

“Messenger?” 

“I’m not sure yet,” Yana tossed over her shoulder, swiftly moving through the growth at the river’s edge. 

They fell silent, watching the ripples in the river as fish prodded at the surface for food. 

“If they’re not here by tomorrow morning, we should begin scouting for them,” Sayuu said. “The Kazekage’s injured and he lacks a proper guard.” 

Kichiro nodded. 

Yana returned, carrying the limp body of the bird in her hand and a scroll in the other. She tossed it to Kichiro. “Should we risk breaking the seal?”

“It’s not from Konoha or the council,” he noted, turning it over, looking for a mark. “I’ve never seen one like this before.” 

“Blank,” Sayuu observed, her voice low. “I don’t like it.” 

“Test the chakra?” 

“No,” Yana snapped suddenly. “I can open it from a safe distance.” 

“Then do it.” He handed her the scroll, watching as she pulled a small vial of dust from her weapons pouch. 

“What is it?” Sayuu asked. 

“Powdered metal,” Kichiro said as Yana sprinkled a thin layer on the seal. Recapping the vial, she pulled her arm back and then lobbed the scroll across the river. It landed in a patch of tall grass, disappearing from view. 

“Get ready,” she murmured, crouching low, her fingers bent awkwardly as she began forming swift seals that Kichiro didn’t recognize. A moment later, there was a rustle and then silence. 

The three remained in position, now armed and poised to defend if need be. 

***

“It’s not fair,” Ino whined, jutting her lip out in a way she thought was cute. Chouji didn’t look up from his barbeque though, and she leaned forward, snapping her fingers directly in front of his face. “Pay attention, Chouji!” 

“What?” 

“It’s not fair!” 

“What?” 

Ino groaned. “Were you even listening to me?” Chouji squinted and Ino knew he hadn’t been. She sighed. “My mission isn’t fair, that’s what.” 

“Oh. But isn’t it better than being a diplomat?” 

“I’d be a great diplomat,” she said, flipping her hair. “I’d rather be a diplomat than go undercover as some ugly beggar woman.” 

“You’re not ugly,” Chouji said through a mouthful of beef, making Ino smile. 

“It’s true,” she said heavily. “I was cursed with good looks. But that’s my point! They want me to dirty my face and cut off my hair—my _hair!_ I said I’d never do it again, Chouji! It took me two years to grow it back out! And they want me to chop it all off, just like Sakura’s.” 

“Why do they want you to cut it, though?” 

“So I look homely and wretched! This is because of that awful Suna council! They think I’m useless.” 

“You’re not useless,” Chouji said. “Where are they sending you?” 

“They want me to infiltrate some non-shinobi villages, keep my ear to the ground or whatever, and report anything suspicious. It’s such a waste of my good looks! And I’m the only kunoichi from Konoha they’ve assigned to this. Hinata got to go off with Shikamaru, Sakura’s off playing medic, and Tenten’s got the best mission of all! Why am I stuck with such a lousy one?”

“It won’t be so bad. At least you won’t have to fight too much.” 

Ino shook her head, all dramatics vanishing replaced by a sobriety that pulled Chouji’s attention from his food. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s war, Chouji. None of us are going to get out of this without having to fight. Not even you.” Chouji swallowed thickly, not meeting Ino’s gaze. “You can, you know? You’re not a useless fatso.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, eyes rooted to his food. “And you’re not a useless pretty girl.” 

“But I am pretty, don’t forget!” she said with a wink and the ghost of a smile. 

Chouji’s cheeks might have been pink, but Ino couldn't be sure. He smiled and nodded. “I’ll—we’ll be okay, right? And Shikamaru, too.” 

“Of course, we will. We’ll make our clans proud, and Asuma-sensei.” 

The sound of the beef sizzling between them was loud in the silence that followed. “Do you think—I mean, they said it was an army of the dead, didn’t they?” Chouji finally asked.

“Sakura let slip something about that,” she confirmed. “But she clamped up pretty quickly. I guess we’re not supposed to know too much yet. Maybe they don’t want us too scared to fight.” 

“They don’t want us to give up before it’s even begun.” 

Ino sighed, then shook her head, hair swishing back and forth. “No, no, no! We’re not going to keep talking like this! We’ll have plenty of time to mope when it gets bad. Right now it’s—well, it _is_ bad, but it’ll get worse. I don’t want to get wrinkles prematurely!” She waved her hand, hailing the owner of the shop. “Could we get more beef, please?” 

Chouji tilted his head. “What about your diet?” 

“Screw it. I’m hungry and if I have to be an ugly ol’ hag for my mission, I might as well indulge.” She shared a smile with Chouji and did her best not to think about the possibility of dying as an ugly beggar.

***

“You’ve overdone it,” Sakura said, pulling her hands away from Neji’s temples.

“Did I not tell you—”

“Lee-san,” Sakura said sternly, silencing him with a quick look. 

“How long will you need to rest before we can continue?” the Kazekage asked. 

“I’ll be fine. I just need a moment—”

“He should rest for at least an hour,” Lee interjected. 

Temari huffed. “We’re already behind schedule. We can’t afford to wait that long.” 

“I’m fine—”

“You are not!” Lee insisted. “Your eyes are unaccustomed to such strain, Neji.” 

“I recommend waiting for at least half an hour,” Sakura said calmly, offering up the best compromise she could under the circumstances. “Kazekage-sama, I understand we are on a schedule, but Neji is useless right now—”

“I’m _fine_ —”

“—and until he’s rested his eyes properly, it would be unwise to move. We can keep watch while he rests.” 

Gaara was silent, eyes on the forest around them. Sakura couldn’t decide if he was angry or simply thinking over their options. As a medic, she could see no safer way.

“We’ll form a perimeter,” Gaara finally said. The group spread out without a word, leaving no area unwatched and Sakura to tend to Neji. “Is there anything you can do to help his eyes?” 

Sakura shook her head, glancing at Shizune and Midori, who’d already taken up posts. “Optical work is always a bit dangerous, but the Byakugan… I wouldn’t trust myself or anyone else to do anything for him, especially not out here. He should just rest his eyes for the time being.” 

“I told you,” Lee whispered agitatedly. Sakura could not blame him for that, or his reluctance to leave his teammate’s side. Neji sighed, but otherwise ignored Lee. 

“We can afford an hour,” Gaara said. “If your vision has not cleared by then, we will go on ahead without aid of the Byakugan. We will need your abilities far more once we have reached Wind.” Neji nodded. “The rest of us will keep watch. Inform us if your condition changes.” 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama,” Neji said respectfully.

“Close your eyes,” Sakura ordered. “There’s no chance of them recovering if you don’t.” 

Neji tensed. “I don't think—”

“Do as I say,” Sakura snapped. “I’m not going to argue. Lee-san is right. We’ve been on the move for nearly a week with little rest. Not once have I seen you deactivate your Byakugan, and unless you want to go blind—”

“I understand,” he said stiffly. “Lee—”

“I am sorry, Neji, but I had to say something—”

Neji rolled his eyes. “Thank you.” 

Lee blinked owlishly for a moment before a smile spread across his face. Sakura tensed, waiting for his excited outburst. “You are my teammate, Neji. I know when you have reached your limit.” 

“Tch.” Neji closed his eyes, settling against his backpack, his muscles visibly tense.

“I’ll keep watch, Lee-san,” Sakura promised. “You should help the others.” 

Lee saluted, still beaming proudly, and rose to his feet. He followed after the Kazekage, speaking lowly with him for a moment. Sakura watched them, taking a moment to consider Lee. He wasn't the same man he'd been before the war she realised suddenly. She prayed silently that the war would not take his spirit from him, and then she turned her attention back to Neji. 

“I told you to close your eyes,” she whispered.

“It is difficult under the circumstances,” he admitted.

Sakura sighed, nodding in understanding. “I know, but regardless, you are in need of rest. No wonder you and Lee-san get along, you’re just as bad as he is.” 

Neji snorted. “Hardly.” 

The two fell silent, listening intently for any signs of approaching enemies. The wind whistled through the tree tops, the leaves swaying causing sunlight to dance on the ground. No one moved or said anything, and the silence of the forest seemed to press in on them. Sakura’s heart was beating a steady rhythm in her chest, and she counted the beats to keep herself calm. 

_A shinobi must never lose control of their nerves_ , she recited, remembering her academy days with such a pang of nostalgia she could almost hear the sound of children laughing. It had been a simpler time and she longed to return to it. She shook herself from her thoughts, focusing her attention on her surroundings. 

There was the snap of a twig and six kunai went flying. There was a fearful squeak and a white rabbit came bounding into view, scurrying haphazardly through the forest to find safety. Sakura let out a relieved breath. 

“It was only a rabbit,” she muttered, allowing her heartbeat to return to normal. In all her years as a shinboi, she had never felt more uneasy in the forests of her country. It seemed to her that death followed them, always just out of sight, waiting for an opportunity to strike. 

_A shinobi is always prepared for death._ The thought was oddly calming. Death was their life, after all, and a shinobi could never forget that. 

***

The air in River country was less oppressive than the forests of Fire. Gaara thought it was the spaciousness of the fields that made it easier for him to breathe. He was too accustomed to life in the open desert, and being surrounded by a forest thick with the smell of death did not sooth the nerves; the relief he’d felt once they had made it out of the woods had been a physical release. Perhaps, at another time he might have appreciated their beauty, but the forests had been filled with a strange chakra that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Everywhere they went it seemed to linger, as though they were being followed by ghosts. It had been a testament to his self-control that his sand had remained quiet throughout the journey, even after Lee had pointed out his teammate’s need to rest his eyes. Though Neji had insisted that he was capable of continuing the journey with his Byakugan activated, Gaara did not want to take any chances. The Byakugan was an important advantage to have, after all.

The open plains were golden in the sunlight, almost blindingly so. Gaara was accustomed to the brilliance of the dessert where the sun glinted off the sand for miles on end against an impossibly blue sky, yet the brilliance of the tall golden blades seemed greater and he squinted, extending his senses to seek out his ANBU. 

“We’re almost there,” he said. “And it seems the samurai escort has already arrived.” 

They bent low to the grass—which was only as tall as Gaara’s waist and didn’t provide the same cover as the forest—and moved swiftly onward. Wind whipped through his hair, whistling in his ears as they sped through the plains. The ache in his ribs, which had not subsided in the last four days, throbbed harshly as he ran. Lee quickly by-passed Gaara, a green blur against the gold grass; Kankurou and Temari appeared on either side of him, faithfully guarding their brother. Just behind him, Kakashi kept up a steady pace. Neji, Sakura, Shizune, and Midori ran just outside of the group, fanning out and forming a protective circle. It seemed to Gaara that the group was forming a perimeter around him, to ensure his safety above all else. 

Twenty meters away, there was a flicker of familiar chakra. Gaara responded with his own, signaling their approach. 

On the other side of a wide river, Kichiro was waiting, Sayuu and Yana flanking him and a group of unfamiliar men behind them. Lee was the first to cross, kicking up a stream of water that splashed Gaara’s face. 

“Kazekage-sama,” Kichiro said once Gaara had crossed the river. “We were becoming concerned. Did you meet any trouble?” 

“No,” Gaara said.

“It was a bit out of the way, though,” Kankurou added. “Couldn’t have made us a more direct route?” 

“Unfortunately, no. The forests of Fire are no longer safe for travel. Finding any path safe enough was a challenge.”

Kankurou shrugged. “Well, we made it at least. So, who’re they?” 

“I am Hotohori,” one of the men said, stepping forward and bowing. “We have come to escort the medical team to Iron on Mifune-sama’s behalf.” 

Gaara eyed the man askance, taking in his attire and the katana at his hip. “And what is your nindo?” he finally asked. 

“Though we are not shinobi, we are allies and share in the nindo of hope and peace.” 

“Very well.” Gaara turned to the three medics. “Send word to Tsunade as soon as you reach Iron.” 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama,” Shizune said with a bow. “Thank you for allowing us to accompany you this far.” 

“Sakura-san,” Lee said, stepping forward, his face red. “Please be careful.” 

“I will, Lee-san,” she said, smiling. “Make sure you don’t open too many gates this time.” 

“With any luck, we will not be in a position where that is necessary,” Gaara interrupted. 

Kankurou snorted, nudging Gaara gently. “Way to kill the mood, little brother.” 

Gaara frowned, but otherwise ignored the comment. “Go quickly. We shouldn’t waste any more time.” 

The medical team, now accompanied by their samurai escort, bowed and departed, running northward through the grass. Gaara watched them for a moment and then turned to his ANBU. “Is there anything to report?” 

“No, Kazekage-sama. We arrived here six and a half days before you, without incident. On the fifth day the samurai arrived.” 

“Then we should be on our way.”

“Hai, Kazekage-sama,” everyone replied. 

They moved as one, the ANBU forming a perimeter around the Kazekage and his siblings, with the three Konoha nin bringing up the rear. Gaara imagined his home for a moment, now in the hands of the enemy, waiting for him just beyond the shimmering blades of grass.

***

The room would frighten just about anyone with sense. It looked like a torture chamber, the dull walls lined with weapons of all kinds and not an ounce of sunlight to brighten the space. It had always been Tenten’s favorite room, even as a child. Whenever she needed to calm her nerves, she would visit this room and admire the weapons on the wall. 

Her eyes focused on the lone pair of nunchaku and her thoughts strayed for a moment: they reminded her of Lee. He had always been skilled with them, and though he used his own sparingly, Tenten would always admire him for his grace and skill with them. She wondered how he was doing, reaching out to run her hand over the dark wood of one of the handles. 

“Jukon-bu,” she whispered to herself, fingers lightly playing over the upper portion of the handle. Sliding her fingers down to the middle section, she continued, “Chukon-bu. Kikon-bu.” Her hand rested on the lower section of the handle and she gripped it, carefully pulling the nunchaku from the wall. She wondered if Lee had packed his own nunchaku, then shook her head. 

Before she could further upset herself worrying over her teammates, she set the nunchaku back on their mount, turning her attention to the kusarigama just above it. The blade was sharp and nicely curved, but the handle was too polished: it had never been used before. She picked up the scythe from its mount, careful as always and a reverent gleam in her eyes. 

She eyed the blade, pondering its usefulness in battle. It would cut through bone like butter, but she wondered if that would matter when fighting against the dead. Could you cut off their heads and expect them to crumple in useless heaps like the living? 

There was a heavy scraping of metal against concrete as the door was forced open. Tenten went still, muscles tense, and her knuckles going blotchy with the force of her grip on the scythe. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice said. She turned, relaxing a fraction and forcing herself to smile. “The council is ready for you,” her grandmother informed her.

Tenten set the scythe back on its rest upon the wall and bowed. “Hai, Obaasan.” 

***

The snow never melted in the Land of Iron. Sakura shivered, wrapping her cloak tighter around her body as they made their way towards what appeared to be just another mountain covered in snow. It was the building they would be spending the next few months in; at least, she hoped it would be just a few months. A year of research was liable to get them all killed. 

“I hope you find the accommodations satisfactory,” Mifune said. “The medics from Kumo and Iwa have already arrived, but unfortunately the Kiri medics are still en route. I have sent a messenger to retrieve them. With luck, they will be here soon. Are there no more Konoha and Suna shinobi in your party?” 

Shizune shook her head. “We couldn’t afford to travel in such a large group. As it was, our party was twelve in number. I doubt we made it through the forest unnoticed.” 

“Then they will be on their way shortly?” 

“I will be sending a message to Tsunade-sama now that we have arrived. We did not want to risk the lives of the best medics our villages have unnecessarily.”

Mifune nodded, humming to himself. “All lives lost in a time of war are lost unnecessarily.” 

“Will there be a guard?” Sakura asked, eyeing the perimeter of their research lab.

“Oh, yes,” Mifune assured. “We have taken precautions—a great deal of them, you’ll find—and so it is my hope that your team will remain safe from Madara’s reach.” 

A frigid wind blew, sending a chill down Sakura’s spine as though the very name held some ill magic that might conjure him into being. “I hope so,” Sakura murmured. 

Mifune reached the door, and with a precise series of knocks and taps the lock clicked and he pushed it open. “Once inside, you will not be permitted to leave until you have completed your research. Any necessities will be brought to you. This is to ensure that you are not discovered and your research not compromised.” 

Sakura felt as though she’d missed a step. She’d been aware of the possibility, but the thought of being caged like an animal, unable to fight while her friends died to save the shinobi world, did not sit well with her. 

“We’re not prisoners,” Midori chimed in, fear making her voice go high. It was the first time Sakura had heard her speak since leaving Konoha. 

Sakura reached out, squeezing her shoulder, doing her best to offer up comfort. Shizune turned to Midori, her expression as severe as it would ever get. Though she was a skilled shinobi, Sakura had never found Shizune intimidating. Perhaps it was because she saw Shizune not as a warrior but as a healer. 

“Are you a shinobi of Suna or are you a woman to be sent into hiding when they come to kill you?” Shizune asked harshly. 

“I—”

“This is war. You knew when you became a shinobi that your life was forfeit. We are not yet prisoners of war, but we will be—if we’re not casualties—unless we work to find a way to save ourselves. Would you turn back and brave the forests of Fire, a coward and a disgrace to your village and family trade?” 

Midori hung her head in shame. “Forgive me.”

Shizune nodded and turned back to Mifune. “We are ready.” 

“Then enter and begin your work.” 

The sound of the door closing behind them, instead of being ominous to Sakura’s mind, was a hopeful drum. Despite her reservations about being locked away, this was the place where they would discover their strongest weapon. There was no room for doubt now.

***

Night had fallen on them quickly in the forest, but out in the desert it crept up on them slowly, the sand cooling only after the sun had fully sunk below the horizon. Sand swirled gently, kicked up by their feet and a light breeze as they set up camp beneath the clear sky. They were too far north of Suna to be easily spotted, and they had chosen a location hidden from view by large rock formations that jutted and spiked out of the desert sand. But the real reason Gaara had chosen to set up camp here were the cacti nearby—the kind that wouldn’t make a man lose his mind if he drank its juice—and in the desert, water was always the most important resource you had. 

“Oi,” Kankurou said, his voice loud in the heavy silence around them, “when are we gonna eat? I’m starving.” 

“If you’re hungry then why don’t you start cooking?” Temari snapped. Her eyes were beginning to bruise, bringing the family resemblance between her and Gaara into stark relief. Ignorant as he was of human emotions, Gaara knew his siblings better than anyone and he knew it was not just sleep that wore on her mind. 

“You’re a woman, you make something.” 

Gaara moved away from the group, the distant sound of his brother being smacked on the head echoing against the rock walls. The sky was bright with stars and the silver-white light from the waning moon cast the desert in a gentle glow that turned the sand to silk. He made his way around the wall until he was able to see Suna, off in the distance, a tiny black spec, hardly recognizable as his home. There was a tight knot in his chest and though he could breathe with less difficultly than the previous day, it still seemed to him that he was suffocating. His ribs throbbed and there was a dull ache just beneath his ribs that still made him feel short of breath. He did not think he could, at least not without assistance. 

There was a flicker of chakra as Kichiro took up a post to watch over him. 

Around Gaara, the desert was buzzing. He stretched his senses, seeking out the animals and insects that lived beneath the sand and in the rocks or the cacti. A mouse scurried by a safe distance away, but it was not safe from the hawk that swooped down on it. Its shrill squeak filled Gaara’s head, an echo of his past dogging him at every turn. 

He pushed the memories aside. Farther on, he reached, extending his chakra to capacity: Suna was too far though, and he could not feel out the enemies’ cold, bitter chakra. 

There was a crunch of gravel and Gaara turned to see Lee hovering a few feet back, looking strangely reluctant to approach. 

“Pardon me,” he said, bowing quickly. “I did not mean to disturb you, but Kankurou-san is preparing food. I did not want you to go hungry.” 

Gaara let out a relieved breath. “Thank you. I will be there shortly.” 

“I will make sure to save you some,” Lee offered. “Excuse me.” He turned, leaving Gaara once again to ponder the desert and the enemy that awaited them. 

***

The streets of the village just southeast of Konoha were lined with people ignorant of the dangers around them. While Konoha was in ruins and busy rebuilding, while now overcrowded with Suna’s people, the small town in Fire Country seemed at ease and without a care. 

Ino wished her life could still be so carefree. 

Her white-blonde hair had been dyed a dull brown and cut short, just above her shoulders. It looked as though someone had taken a kunai and hacked haphazardly at it. While she could just as easily expend chakra to infiltrate a non-shinobi village—an easy task for even a Genin—the two councils and Hokage were wary of the risks it involved: if the villages she was assigned to had been infiltrated, molding chakra would only draw attention to her.

And so she had been forced to alter her looks in a semi-permanent fashion. The clothes she wore were ratty and baggy, making her look impossibly frail. She was covered in dirt, and the smell that surrounded her made her sick to her stomach. 

Chouji had looked at her sadly when she’d gone to say goodbye. 

“You look weird,” he’d said, keeping his distance as though she were a stranger.

She couldn’t blame him for that, but it had made their parting all the more difficult. There hadn’t been time for a proper goodbye, and she regretted that fact more with each passing day.

If only she’d said something to him sooner, she thought as she pretended to hobble down the street. 

_The next time I see him,_ she promised herself, _I’ll tell him._

***

Being stuck in Amegakure was more trouble than it was worth in Shikamaru’s completely unbiased opinion. The endless meetings, the hours of strategizing with people who couldn’t even grasp simple concepts like stealth, and the constant looks and whispers were enough to drive even Shikamaru up the wall. But the most troubling aspect was being split up from his teammates. Hinata was perfectly capable—much more at home working the political front than he’d expected her to be—as were the others he’d taken on the mission, but no one compared to his teammates. 

Not that Ino wouldn’t be a pain. She’d spend all of her time complaining about her hair and make-up, and Shikamaru would eventually have to tune her out which always landed him in trouble. He didn’t know how Chouji could put up with her so well. 

“Shikamaru-kun,” Hinata said from the hallway. “The meeting is about to start, should—should I tell them you are not well?” 

Shikamaru groaned. Though it was true the many meetings they’d had since the council had agreed to help were tiresome, Shikamaru was not about to shirk his responsibilities: laziness could get a man killed on the battlefield. Worse still, it could get his teammates killed.

“I’m coming,” he called. 

“Ha-hai,” Hinata said quickly. Shikamaru rose from his bed, listening to Hinata’s retreating footsteps as he pulled his trousers back on. It was almost impossible to get a moment to himself here and it was wearing him down. If it wasn’t the council, it was Hei hounding his every step. 

He rummaged through the pocket of his vest, seeking out the pack of cigarettes he’d invested in the other day. He could quit again if he wanted to but, horrible a habit as it was, it was the only habit that eased his nerves currently, and having his own meant he could avoid Hei better. He had little motivation for anything else, including shougi now that he spent so much of his time strategizing and playing the political front in the war. 

“Oh, there you are. You comin’?” Riisa was pulling on a shirt as she stepped out of her room, uncaring of modesty. Shikamaru averted his gaze quickly.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a cigarette between his lips.

“Do you want to walk down together? Hinata already went on ahead to round up the others. ” He nodded, falling into step beside her as he pulled his lighter from his pocket. “How much longer do you think they can drag out this political dance, do you think?” 

Shikamaru took a heavy pull on his cigarette, letting the smoke out slowly. “Another week if they can. The Hokage and Kazekage won’t like it, but we’re not in a position to renege. We need their help and they know it.” 

Riisa huffed, pushing the door open and stepping out into the rain. “It’s fucked up. We’re at war. We don’t have time for politics.” 

“I’m aware,” Shikamaru muttered, following behind. “We’re already behind schedule. Tanigakure is a day and half away, and if they keep us here much longer who knows how things will turn out. I may have to send Hinata and a few others on ahead to begin negotiations with Tani.”

“Do you think they’ll be more helpful?” 

Shikamaru hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve never met someone from that village, but most of the smaller villages aren’t fond of us. The five great nations have a lot of power, so for us to be in this position means we’re obviously weak and easy to take advantage of.” 

“If you send Hinata on ahead, I’d like to stay here. Much as I detest this weather, I think I’ve made enough of an impression that leaving wouldn’t benefit our cause.” 

Shikamaru nodded. “I agree.” He stopped, just before the door to the council building. “I’ll be right up. If they get antsy, have Hinata start the meeting.” 

Riisa nodded. “You’re the boss.” 

Shikamaru snorted, shaking his head. “Troublesome.” 

Riisa disappeared into the building, leaving him alone in the rain to ponder the state of the mission. While the elders had assured him they were willing to work with him, getting them to act on their promise was another thing entirely. There was a saying in Ame, “I’ll do it when the rain stops”, that Shikamaru couldn’t help thinking every time he was sitting at the table in the meeting hall. If the elders continued to dance around the issue and stall further preparations, Shikamaru was more than willing to leave the village entirely. Though Ame and its shinobi were an important ally to Konoha, they were expendable enough that he wouldn’t worry over the loss of their help. However, if word got out to the other small villages that Ame had refused, it could inspire those villages in refusing to help as well. 

The five great nations were powerful, but there was no denying they needed assistance. 

He took one last drag on his cigarette before dropping the butt to the ground. He never bothered to stomp them out; there was little point when there were always puddles of muddy water everywhere you looked. He shook his head, a pointless endeavor in drying off. 

“So troublesome,” he muttered, pulling the door open and stepping inside to continue the political game of shougi he still couldn’t win.


	6. See No Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some missions are more dangerous than others. Some missions are a one-way trip, while other missions are all about the words used and contracts signed. Sometimes, a mission's only purpose is to learn all there is before death comes. Sometimes, hope is the only thing that keeps a warrior alive when everything is stacked against them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll with the updates, at least for now. It's gonna be slowing down again soon as I'm approaching the chapters that have far less editing. This chapter was a bit more work to edit just because of one scene in particular that's been giving me trouble since I first wrote it. But I think I finally got that scene sorted out to my liking--it only took me like three years, but all good things in time, I guess. Hope everyone enjoys!

Suna had gone out with a bang the likes of which Deidara hadn’t been able to appreciate since his battle with Uchiha Sasuke. However, much as he enjoyed reminiscing on the destruction he had caused to the village, his greatest pleasure was in the memory of the Kazekage. He relished in reliving the moment when he’d blown the arrogant young man off the map, especially when he could share the tale with Gaara’s very own shinobi. Of course, he’d heard the rumors that the Kazekage had survived—like a cockroach, he’d thought unhappily when word had reached him—but even that could not dampen the satisfaction he’d felt when Gaara of the Desert had been smashed into the crumbling wall of his own village. The beauty of that blast combined with the rocks falling on top of the Kazekage left Deidara grinning from ear to ear, anxious to shower the world in more of his glorious art. 

But orders from on high had forced him to remain in Suna.

He lobbed a clay bird at the wall in the Kazekage’s office. There were scorch marks all over the room and cracks in the walls from some of the more powerful explosions the little birds—which were no bigger than his thumb—caused. The tiny puff of smoke and the fire that went out all too quickly did nothing for his mood. He was becoming more and more restless as the weeks turned into months. If he was to be a pawn in Kabuto and Madara’s war then he wanted to be out there on the battlefield not waiting around for orders to come, but he’d learned quickly that he could not disobey Kabuto. The power he held over the dead was impossibly great: None could resist him, though many had tried. 

Deidara was lucky enough to have almost full control of his body with the only restriction being on his ability to leave which hardly seemed so bad—especially when compared to the countless members of Kabuto’s undead army that had been reduced to mindless drones, incapable of so much as speaking without permission. Deidara took great pleasure in using those shinobi as target practice. 

He rose from his seat, looking out of the window. Suna was still far too intact for his liking—even with nearly the entire south-east wall and countless buildings within the village gone. If the Kazekage had been fool enough to survive his attack then Deidara wanted to make sure he left Gaara something to remember him by. Perhaps tonight he’d invite those without scruples out for a bit of fun on the town. 

The door opened behind him without warning and he lobbed a ball of clay over his shoulder. It went off with a crack and the man who’d entered gave an irate shout. 

“The fuck—”

“Knock, uhn! Don’t you know that this is the office of the Kazekage?” Deidara burst into a fit of laughter at his own joke and sneered at the intruder. 

The man glared, his hands in tight fists and his jaw clenched. He appeared to be straining against something—anger, or perhaps that invisible power that kept him from acting on his desires—and it made Deidara’s smile broaden. “Don’t look so sour. Uhn! Just think, Matsuo, now you’re on the winning team.” 

“I’m not on your team,” he growled. 

“But you are,” Deidara teased. “You’re here, aren’t you? And you can’t leave. Some ANBU you were. Couldn’t protect your Kazekage, couldn’t even infiltrate your own village.” 

Matsuo didn’t respond. Deidara wasn’t sure if that was because he could not or because he would not. It was sometimes hard to tell whether the set to a person’s jaw was their own rage or Kabuto’s power keeping their mouths closed. He waited a moment, watching the expression on Matsuo’s face relax. 

“Fine,” he said with a put upon sigh, disappointed at the interference. “What do you want?”

“Another procession has arrived,” Matsuo said flatly. 

“From?”

“A rouge band from the north-west.” 

Deidara nodded. “Anything else?” 

“One of the prisoners has died.” 

“A shinobi?” 

“Yes. It appears that she killed herself.”

“So quick to join the ranks? Uhn! The Kazekage’s shinobi really are pathetic.” Deidara grinned. “Well, dead or not, I’m sure she’ll still make an excellent play-thing. Uhn.” 

“You are expected to greet the new arrivals and ensure they understand the situation.” 

Deidara threw his hand up in the air, the tongue of his palm sticking out cheekily at the unresponsive ninja. “I know what I have to do! Uhn. I don’t need reminding, _Kabuto_.” He glared past his hand at Matsuo, who was now grinning in a wicked fashion that didn't suit him. 

“See that you do it, Deidara,” he replied, his voice low and amused. “While I’m not bothered by how you treat those you’ve captured, there is a purpose to all this and I would hate to see you back in your grave.” 

Deidara’s lip curled. “I’m not going back to my grave unless it’s with a bang! Uhn!” He stormed past Matsuo and out the door, frustrated with his inability to disobey. He would take his frustrations out on the village and his prisoners later that night, but in the meantime he would play his part as a good little puppet, bringing the new recruits up to speed. 

***

“Lee,” Gaara said drawing the Leaf shinobi’s attention away from his task. “I need to speak with you.” 

Lee nodded, setting his bag down. They were packing up the campsite and splitting up into their assigned teams to begin scouting closer to the village. The sun was high in the sky by now, the morning having been spent hunched over maps, discussing their plans. Kakashi's team had already left, heading for southeast to where the wall of the village had been destroyed. The Kazekage had argued for several minutes with his siblings over the decision before finally agreeing to let Kakashi’s team venture to the ruined portion of the wall. 

Temari’s gaze followed them intently as Gaara led Lee away from the campsite, making Lee feel jittery and uncomfortable. Had he done something wrong, perhaps? Surely he couldn’t have already disappointed the Kazekage. 

“Is everything all right, Kazekage-sama?” Lee asked.

Gaara didn’t respond, glancing over his shoulder at Lee before his gaze slid past to the others. He turned, disappearing behind a rock leaving Lee to follow after him. They had emerged from the rock formation into the brilliant sunshine and Suna could now be seen in the distance as a tiny, insignificant spec. Lee could only wonder at the Kazekage’s thoughts as they stared at the distant village. 

“You are aware that this mission is dangerous,” Gaara said suddenly. “Do you understand that it has the potential to become a suicide mission?” 

Lee opened his mouth, prepared to remark on the absurdity of the statement. Of course it wasn’t going to turn into a suicide mission and they were all definitely going to make it out alive, he wanted to say, but something in Gaara’s expression brought him up short and the words caught in his throat. Suddenly, he realised how empty those words really were; he couldn’t promise anything and, for the first time, the severity of the situation hit him like several tons of bricks. For a moment he couldn’t respond, staring silently at Gaara, wide-eyed and feeling more than a little lost in his confusion. He had never before encountered a situation so precarious, so balanced on the edge of a blade that one small misstep could send them to their deaths. Not even when he'd been younger, before Gai-sensei, or after his first Chuunin exams had everything seemed quite so bad. He shook himself mentally. “Ha-hai, Kazekage-sama,” he finally managed, voice shaking. 

Gaara tilted his head, staring at Lee from the corner of his eye. “We may not make it back from this, but if that happens it could jeopardize the other villages. It could mean this war takes a turn for the worse.” 

“I understand,” Lee said slowly, more confused than a moment before. “Why are you telling me this?” 

The Kazekage turned to face Lee, staring at him intently. “If things go awry I want you to abandon the team and return to Konoha.” 

Lee’s mouth fell open. “But—”

“This is not up for debate. This is an order. As Kazekage, as a general, and as the leader of this mission I am ordering you to abandon your comrades should things take a turn for the worse. You are the fastest person here, Lee. If Akatsuki discovers us, if we are engaged in combat you need to return to Konoha to inform the Hokage. You will not stop to aid your comrades, you will not engage in battle. If you are drawn in you are to retreat immediately.” 

Lee closed his mouth, shaking his head. “But I cannot abandon my teammates!” 

“You will do as I say, Lee. This is about more than obtaining information; it’s about winning this war and protecting this world. Our lives are unimportant in the grand scheme of things. If I cannot trust you to follow my every order then I will send you back to Konoha right now.” 

Lee straightened, staring defiantly at Gaara. This went against everything he stood for, and the ease with which Gaara could cast aside the lives of his team—his own family—made Lee bristle. His honour as a shinobi was on the line, his duty to his nindo was at stake. He would not abandon all hope and leave his friends and comrades to die. 

“Can I trust you?” Gaara asked when Lee had remained quiet for too long. 

Lee clenched his fists. “What you ask of me is—and please excuse my rudeness, but it is cruel, Kazekage-sama. You wish for me to abandon my teammate, my fellow Konoha shinobi, and Konoha’s allies. To return to Konoha after fleeing—that is cowardly and selfish—”

“It would be selfish of me to consider dying here without any means of ensuring that the villages are properly warned. This is the only way, Lee.” 

“I do not believe that!” 

“Then you are more foolish than I thought,” Gaara said coldly. “This is our only option. If you cannot give me your word, then I will send you home.” 

“And what about Temari-san and Kankurou-san?” Lee asked, his words sharp, cutting between them like a whip. “They are your teammates, your family—and you would just let them die?” 

Gaara’s nostrils flared and the sand in his gourd rattled ominously for a brief moment before subsiding. Lee opened his mouth to apologize, to take back what he’d said but the words had already been spoken. “Let?” Gaara repeated, his voice a low thrum like the growl of an angry beast. “Let? I did not _let_ my village fall; I did not _let_ my people die, nor will I let my siblings die. My village—my home—was taken from me and the lives of my people were stolen from them. I did not _let_ it happen, but I will not let you put the outcome of this war on the line for your naive ideology. If I cannot trust you to do as I say, then you are not the ninja I thought you were.” 

Lee dropped his gaze, ashamed of himself for speaking in such a manner. It did not sit well with him, but neither did being sent home and losing the Kazekage’s trust. He had earned his place on the Kazekage’s team, and for Gaara to ask this of him meant he trusted Lee a great deal more than Lee would have ever thought possible. Yet Lee had thrown in his face the loss of his village and his people, had rubbed it in that Gaara had no control over whether or not his own family lived or died. He was not honoring his shinobi way by insulting the leader of Suna, yet he could not allow himself to abandon his comrades either. 

“Pack your things—”

“No!” Lee shouted, beside himself. The word echoed around them and Gaara narrowed his eyes. “What I mean to say is: I am sorry. I should not have said that about your family.” 

“That is hardly the point,” Gaara said, dully. “Your refusal to follow orders is why I am sending you home.”

“But I will follow your orders! It is just—how can I abandon them to die? What was the purpose of saving you from death if I am to leave you to it only three months later? I have faith that you will not lead us astray, Kazekage-sama. Please, do not ask this of me.” 

Gaara shook his head. “I ask this of you because I have to. I am responsible for an entire village, and now I am bound to protect more than just my own people. I cannot allow my feelings to sway me. If I do not make this call, then who will? My siblings would rather die than leave me and you are foolhardy in your determination to stay put—if every shinobi fights this war with their heart alone then we are doomed.”

Lee shook his head. “I am sure that is not true.” 

"You are far less jaded than I,” Gaara replied. He turned away from Lee, looking across the desert to Suna. For a brief moment, the Kazekage seemed to sag under the weight of his gourd, looking for the first time in Lee’s memory incredibly tired, but it was gone the next moment. Gaara straightened, turning back to Lee. “Will you do as I ask?” 

Lee scanned Gaara’s face for a long moment, trying to decipher any meaning hidden within the blank expression there. His mind raced as he processed the possibility of failure, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to find even an ounce of hope in Gaara’s gaze. It was there, just the barest flicker of it like a tiny blemish in jade stone. The Kazekage might have called himself foolish for it or perhaps he would say it was Lee's imagination that made him see such things. Whether it was real or imagined, Lee clung to that flicker of hope as though it were his only lifeline. True, Gaara did have to make this call, but it didn’t mean it would ever be necessary. “You can trust me, Kazekage-sama,” Lee finally said, his voice soft but strong. “I will do as you ask though I do not agree with it.” 

“I do not need you to agree. I just need you to do,” Gaara said, and he sounded almost relieved. 

Lee saluted. “And I will should we find ourselves in such a situation, but I have faith that I will not need to.” 

Gaara scrutinized Lee in a way that made him feel distinctly vulnerable, as though Gaara were peeling back the layers of Lee’s skin. After several moments, he nodded. “Take your weights off and leave them here. If such a thing occurs, the enemy won’t give you time to remove them.” He swept past Lee without another word. 

***

It had taken the Kaze Daimyo a week to finally listen to reason. But Baki was a patient man and, despite the Kaze Daimyo’s best attempts at pushing him over the edge, he had remained calm throughout the ordeal. After all, he was not a ninja of Suna because of weakness or rashness, and he had not spent years as Gaara’s teacher—however little he’d actually taught him—without learning when to act and when to be still. 

After another four days of packing and sending out decoys, they’d finally managed to leave the capitol and began making their way to the safe house. It was a long journey that had the potential to last several months; it would take them across the desert—a perilous trek but one Baki had chosen to risk over the dangers of the forests of Fire—and once they’d reached the shores of Wind they would journey across the gulf to Tea Country before taking a small vessel that Baki had charted from Fishing Village the rest of the way to Modoroki shrine. His only hope was that the journey would be uneventful. 

“You. Shinobi,” the Kaze Daimyo snapped, “my daughter requires water.” 

Baki shook his head, watching as one of his men hurried to tend to the young woman. She reminded him of his sister, if only his sister had been as pale and liked wearing extravagant robes and ornamental headdresses. His sister had been an adept shinobi who’d died in the line of duty, a not altogether unexpected occurrence. Baki imagined that if she’d dressed in the finery of the courts that she would look altogether awkward and inelegant, like a wild boar attempting to be a regal tiger. 

“Hime,” the young shinobi said stiffly, bowing to her. 

She glanced up at the man with a small smile that was hidden behind a lock of dark hair, an attempt at timidity that failed. The gesture did not seem to fit her in Baki’s opinion; her jaw was too strong and proud, as though she'd once been more than she was now, and the smile didn’t reach her eyes. 

The Kaze Daimyo snorted. “The Kazekage has at least taught his men some respect,” he said, chiding without trying. 

“The Kazekage has taught us far more than that,” Baki said evenly. 

“Has he now?” the Daimyo asked, arching a meticulously manicured eyebrow. “Hmph, I find that hard to believe. Monstrous little brat, can’t even keep his village out of the hands of the enemy! What could he possibly teach his people besides fear?”

Baki didn’t rise to the bait and thankfully neither did his men, though a few could not keep their anger from their faces. 

“He is our Kazekage,” Baki finally said when the Kaze Daimyo continued to eye him, waiting for a response. “He has been very good for Suna and is doing all he can to win back the village. The enemy was unbeatable—untouchable and unkillable. I doubt there are many who could face a foe of that nature and come out victorious.” 

“Excuses, excuses!” the Daimyo huffed. “We never had such problems when the Fourth was Kazekage. As it is, trade has gone down since he took office. His reputation precedes him; it’s not good for the country.” 

Baki’s eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps you would like to cut ties with Suna?” 

“Are you threatening me?” 

“Certainly not,” Baki said, bowing his head in a show of humility. “It simply follows that, since you find the Kazekage so distasteful, you must also find those loyal to him distasteful. Certainly you can find another shinobi army to defend your country and see you safely across the desert. We wouldn’t want to disturb you with our presence.” 

The Kaze Daimyo’s eyes narrowed, his face reddening and cheeks puffing. “Insolence! I could have you arrested for such—you would leave me to die! Your duty is to this country—”

“We will not abandon you,” Baki interjected. “However, you’d do well to remember who protects your country from attack and who your guard is during these harsh times. Every shinobi present, including the ones you so graciously ordered to carry your norimono, are loyal to Gaara of the Desert.” 

The Kaze Daimyo’s eyes narrowed further, the beady blackness of them more pronounced as he squinted up at Baki. “I see. Well, then,” he said, settling back against the many cushions he’d demanded for his palanquin, “carry on. Oh, and—Baki, was it? Please do send the Kazekage my regards when you return to him. I hope, for his sake, that he can see to it this war ends soon and he reclaims Suna.” 

Baki’s nostrils flared, but he managed to contain his anger. He inclined his head once before turning away,, keeping his gaze straight ahead to avoid being drawn into further conversation with the Daimyo. 

***  
Wave Country was safe for the time being. Ino finished up her report, then slipped it inside the carrying case for the hawk she’d stolen from the small village’s aviary. There was nothing left for her to do but move on to the next town. 

The Great Naruto Bridge put her at ease. Crossing above the water, she thought about the bridge’s namesake, pausing to look north towards the islands too far in the distance for her to see. As she stared across the water, she wondered if it was really a good idea keeping Konoha’s strongest shinobi out of the war. They’d already lost so much and unless the war ended quickly they would only lose more. Naruto, she thought, was their only real hope. 

It wasn’t like her to be so doubtful—after all, she didn’t want wrinkles prematurely (or ever, if she could help it). But the turn things had taken left her strangely desolate. Maybe it was because Chouji was usually the one to be so negative. Without him, she had no one to be positive for. 

It hadn’t yet been two week since she’d left Konoha, though it felt like months to her, and she was already desperately homesick. Her first solo mission and all she wanted was to be back with her teammates; her father had been right to wish for a son—she was useless. 

At the end of the bridge Ino pulled out a map, scanning it quickly before deciding on the route she’d take to the port city just north of Wave Country. A straight trek would be easiest, but unless she moved back into the forest she would be forced to travel at the pace of an injured beggar rather than an able-bodied shinobi. 

The trees grew thicker as the day wore on and she pressed further into the forest. Once she was far enough in, she would take to the trees again and make her way north. While the council had warned her against such things, she thought under the circumstances they couldn’t afford to wait. 

*** 

One week of scouting had provided them with little information and Gaara was becoming more frustrated with each passing day. The sand in his gourd had begun to stir several nights ago and Lee, lacking any subtlety, was obvious in his concern. Gaara had wondered several times, in the moments when he’d needed a reprieve from the constant drumming of war, if the sand bothered Lee. Most of his own shinobi knew what it meant when the sand in his gourd rattled, but to those unfamiliar with him the sand was often a source of anxiety. It would be understandable if it made Lee uncomfortable, especially given their past history.

“Kazekage-sama,” Sayuu said, her voice scratchy over the frequency, “there’s something you need to see.” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes and a tendril of sand slithered from his gourd. “Stay here.” He didn’t wait for Lee’s response, disappearing in a burst of sand. He reappeared, two miles away, standing behind Sayuu with his eyes intent on her grey flecked hair. “What is it?” 

She turned to him, her jaw tight, and pointed to the wall. She’d found a rock formation to take cover behind, one close enough to Suna’s south-west wall that he could easily make out the row of black-clad guards stationed on the battlements. But that was not what Sayuu was pointing at. 

“What have they done?” The words weren't coherent, they were more of a snarl than human speech, and his gourd roared, an echo to his anger as sand began to swirl at his feet. He stared, horrified, at the many bodies dangling from the walls of his village. 

“They’ve made Suna theirs,” Sayuu murmured in horror. “Kazekage-sama! What are you doing?” 

Gaara had stepped out from the shelter of the rock, hot sand whipping about him. The desert floor rose up around him, grains of sand ricocheting all around him. Waves of sand rolled like a tsunami, called to him by his fury, and then the sun disappeared behind a cloud of sand like a swarm of insects. He could sense Sayuu within the storm he’d created and despite his rage he kept the sand in check. He extended his senses as far as he could: Lee was still waiting in their earlier hiding spot like Gaara had told him; farther out he could feel the animals of the desert, heartbeats fluttering in fear beneath the sand, but there was no sign of his siblings and their teams. They were too far away from him now, their absence at his side foreign and unpleasant but welcome in the face of his fury. 

Sand swelled until an incredible wall had risen, wild and dark and raging. He raised his arms high, wind howling around him, and then with a violent jerk of his hands the mass of sand flew towards his desecrated village. It roared forward in a furious wave kicking up more sand as it went, growing in size as it raced towards Suna. The line of shinobi on the wall didn’t budge as the storm made for them. Gaara growled, the sound echoing within the storm as though the sand were a vengeful god come to smite those who’d dared to defile its home. Within the darkness of the storm Gaara could see, using the sand as his eyes, and he watched the bodies of his people swinging madly on the battlements as the storm drew closer. The vision sent an angry ripple of chakra out, rocking the ground he stood upon. 

As quickly as it had begun, the darkness faded around them as the storm engulfed Suna. It was strong enough now that he didn’t need to expend anymore chakra to sustain it, and his arms dropped to his sides, hands shaking discreetly. There was an ache in his side and his chest rose in uneven bursts, as if he were gasping for breath though his expression gave nothing of the pain he was in away, only his anger. He clenched his fists, watching the storm, his eyes stinging. 

“Kazekage-sama?” Sayuu whispered, her voice far away and meek, unlike a shinobi of Suna. 

Gaara turned to her, shame sparking in him at the look on her face. It was one he’d grown accustomed to but hadn’t seen for many years: she was afraid of him. “Forgive me,” he murmured, distantly aware of the words, but not at all connected to the action of speaking. “Contact the others.” 

“Ha-hai,” Sayuu said, fumbling with her radio. 

He took in a deep breath that strained his ribs, watching his village without truly seeing it. His heart was heavy, his hands shook, and his ribs ached. The sand in his gourd had stilled and in the wake of its silence the sound of Gaara’s heart pounded in his ears and the blood roared. His only thought amidst the sound of his own life was that he had failed his village, he had let his people down. Lee had been right. 

“I’m returning to Lee. Have everyone meet us there.” 

Gaara disappeared, materializing behind Lee who was crouched low behind a rock with his headdress askew and a kunai out. 

“Kazekage-sama! Is everything all right? Did they spot us?” 

“I don’t believe so.” A moment later, Sayuu rose up from the ground, sand cascading around her. It wasn’t long before the others began arriving; Kichiro’s and Kankurou’s teams all rising from the ground like sand clones. 

“Gaara, what happened?” Temari asked the moment she had appeared, her voice strained but steady. She did not approach him as she normally would have, a strange look on her face as she stared at him. 

Gaara turned away from the group to look back at Suna, avoiding their concerned gazes. The storm had begun to settle; the battlements, visible through a haze of sand were still dotted with the enemy and what he now knew to be the bodies of his people, swaying in the wake of his storm. “Forgive my outburst,” he offered quietly. He swallowed thickly against the tightness in his chest. “Suna has been desecrated.” 

Gaara bowed his head, his eyes stinging and his hands tight fists at his sides. “Those who did not make it have been used by the enemy to make their claim on Suna. Their bodies now decorate the walls of our village.” 

Temari and Lee gasped, a sudden sharp intake of breath that echoed in Gaara’s mind. 

“Those bastards,” Kankurou snarled. 

“What action do you propose we take, Kazekage-sama?” Kakashi asked. 

Gaara was silent, staring ahead at his village. What could they do? They were nine shinobi against an army that could not be touched yet could kill more effectively than any jutsu any of them possessed. His people had paid for his weakness with their lives, while Gaara still lived. The long list of Suna’s dead had been a painful and unforgiving reminder of his shortcomings, and he’d memorized each of the names on the scroll the council had drawn up while he’d been unconscious, determined to never let himself forget those taken from this world. 

“Gaara?” Temari’s voice broke him from his reverie, the sound of her moving closer a blanket of relief. 

“Thus far this mission has been unsuccessful,” he said, slowly forcing his feelings aside. “We’ve been unable to get closer to the village due to the many guards stationed and we’re running out of time. We can’t afford to stay here much longer, not when we still have to warn the tribes. We’ll continue with the mission, but if by the end of the week we’ve made no progress we’ll move on. The Red Gorge tribe is nearest, and I am sure San would be willing to assist us in informing the tribes farther out in the desert. Our goal is to return to Konoha by the end of the month. 

“As for the remainder of this mission: we’ve so far been undetected, though I cannot be sure if my outburst will have alerted them to our presence. We will take a day or two to rest, and perhaps if they did discover us, they will be fooled into thinking we have given up. After a couple of days, we will split up once more and return to scouting. The objective remains the same: we are here to obtain information not to engage unless necessary.” 

“Kazekage-sama,” Neji said, stepping forward. “We were discussing a possible way inside—”

“No,” Gaara said, the word snapping from him like a trap. “We will not enter Suna. There is no sense in risking our lives at this juncture.” 

“How else are we going to accomplish the mission?” Temari interjected. “We know the risks, Gaara. This is our home—”

“And Suna is our ally!” Lee added helpfully.

“We can’t just run around the edges of the walls if we want to learn anything. We can’t be afraid to die.” 

Gaara closed his eyes, turning from the group. For a moment he envisioned the wall with new additions: his brother, his sister, his ANBU, and their Konoha brethren who’d braved this impossible mission. He didn’t want to add to that count; he didn’t want to see his family turned into a display for all to see and mock; he had no desire to put his comrades in danger or lose the lives of the Konoha shinobi he’d brought with him. He knew the risks of the mission better than anyone; he understood the price he would need to pay if things went wrong and entering the village was a sure way of getting them all killed. How could he ask them to die?

“Gaara,” Kankurou said, suddenly at his side, “we have to do this; we have to go in there—”

“We have already lost so much,” Gaara said softly, staring into his brother's painted face. “How can I ask you to risk even more?” 

The sand shifted behind them. Kichiro was standing before everyone, his shoulders set and his expression grim. “Kazekage-sama, I have faith that you will not lead us astray. You have overcome death and saved Suna from complete annihilation, you have been a compassionate and just leader. I believe this is the right decision and I am ready to lay down my life if it means we gain any information that may give us an advantage in this war and in regaining control of Suna. Please, Kazekage-sama, let us try.” He dropped gracefully to his knees, bowing low against the sand. 

Before Gaara could say anything Yana and Lee had followed suit, followed by his siblings, Kakashi, and finally Neji and Sayuu. He stared at the team he’d assembled in wide-eyed fascination; he looked down, meeting Kichiro’s gaze, and nodded. 

“Thank you,” Gaara said faintly. He turned away from the team, hiding the sudden weakness he felt rising in him. He closed his eyes, fighting back tears and when he opened them there was a new resolve in him. There was too much at stake for them to quit now, and too much on the line for them to fail. He turned back to his team. “Tell me your plan.” 

***

Sai smiled benignly, observing the council through half-closed eyes. Shino stood beside him, his gaze concealed like always behind his sunglasses and his expression neutral. 

“Do you understand your mission?” a Suna councilman asked.

“Hai,” Shino confirmed. 

“You have twenty-four hours to make preparations. You are not to inform anyone of the details discussed here today.”

“Shouldn’t our comrades be made aware of the situation?” Sai asked, still smiling. 

The Suna elder narrowed his eyes. “And risk mass panic? I think our villagers have enough to concern themselves with. Shinobi will be made aware of the situation when it’s absolutely vital, until then your silence is mandatory.” 

Sai inclined his head. “Of course.” 

“There will be no contact between the villages and yourselves during this mission. When we require your return we shall send for you. Until then you will remain in the forests of Fire. We trust that precautions will be taken in the event of either of your deaths.”

Shino nodded. 

“Then you are dismissed.” 

Sai and Shino bowed in unison before turning to leave. 

“The Hokage is certainly busy,” Sai said once they were in the hall, “if the councils are giving out orders. I am surprised the Hokage would send anyone on a suicide mission though,” he added quietly as an afterthought. She had never struck him as the sort to casually sacrifice the lives of her shinobi on useless errands. 

“This entire war is a suicide mission,” Shino intoned, turning his head slightly towards Sai. 

Sai nodded. “It is, isn’t it?” 

Sunlight blinded him as they stepped outside. The overcrowded main street of Konoha was awash with colour, a stark contrast to the darkness of the council rooms. Despite the heavy atmosphere that followed every shinobi within the village, the citizens went about their shopping almost as though it were a normal day. Suna’s people were easily spotted within the sea of Konoha’s residents, a stark reminder for even the villagers that their normal lives had been disrupted. Despite this, the citizens carried on smiling, laughing, sharing stories, exchanging pleasantries; it seemed to Sai that life for the villagers continued on as normally as ever. He felt the barest inkling of envy as he watched them. 

“Perhaps it’s for the best they don’t know,” Sai mused.

Shino shook his head. “Ignorance will not win this war.” 

“Then what will?” 

“Damned if I know,” Shino muttered. 

***

It hadn’t been his plan, but no one else had been willing to speak up and Neji hadn’t journeyed to Suna just to turn back empty-handed. He’d thought Gaara might bury him under a pile of sand for making such a suggestion—the Kazekage had looked unhinged, his hair wild and eyes bright with a dangerous lust that chilled Neji to the bone. He’d watched the Kazekage’s trembling hands warily as he’d detailed the plan, doubtful of his sanity, waiting for the moment he’d close his fists and sand would crush them all the way it had crushed Lee's arm and leg all those years ago. 

“Lee,” he said, motioning his teammate. They would be splitting up into groups once more, but this time they’d be entering the village and Neji’s faith in Gaara’s stability had been lost after the Kazekage’s earlier outburst. Watching his teammate—his reckless, too trusting, naive teammate—go off with a madman did not sit well with Neji. Though he had absolute faith in Lee's skills, it was Lee's unwavering faith in just about everyone that left him on edge. Lee's ability to trust others without reservation was liable to get him killed. 

“We are leaving shortly,” Lee said as he approached. “I do not have much time.” 

“I just wanted a quick word,” Neji replied, lowering his voice. 

“Something is bothering you,” Lee said. 

Neji nodded. “The Kazekage—”

“Oh yes,” Lee interrupted, his expression falling. “He is most upset over the state of things. It is no wonder after what has happened to his village and his people, but I think he is doing better now that we have a plan.”

“I’m not concerned about him, Lee,” Neji said, stifling an exasperated sigh. 

“Why not? He has had a rough day and I am sure he could use a few kind words—”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “ _That_ is what concerns me.” 

Lee’s cheeks puffed up for a moment before the confusion settled on his brow, deflating his anger. “I do not understand. What concerns you?” 

“You concern me. You should be on guard around the Kazekage—”

“What?” Lee squawked. 

Neji clenched his hands into fists, doing his best not to snap or raise his voice. “I’m concerned for your safety. The Kazekage’s reaction—”

“He was just upset!” Lee whispered furiously, though it was none too quiet a whisper. “Surely you cannot blame him for such a display after what he saw!” 

“He’s not stable, Lee—”

“He was hurt!” Lee argued. “You should not be so disrespectful. His home—Neji, they took it from him and then made their mark with the dead bodies of his people. How can you be so heartless?” 

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Lee countered, his tone unusually harsh and his face turning red. “What if it was your home? What if they had come in the night and taken everything you loved from you, and then painted the gates of your home with the blood of your family? Do not tell me you would not react just as violently.” 

“I would do no such thing—”

“Then either you are a liar or the Kazekage has a bigger heart than you.”

Neji balked at Lee. It never ceased to amaze him that Lee had made it this far as a shinobi. Lee was more diligent than just about anyone else Neji knew, but he wasn’t stealthy or intelligent and he had the survival instincts of a man in love. 

“You never could see the bigger picture,” Neji said with a sigh. 

“And you never could see with your heart,” Lee countered. 

“Do you truly think trusting in someone like that—”

“I do,” Lee said fervently. “He is the leader of his village for a reason.” 

“Very well.” There was no arguing with Lee at this point. He was too stubborn to listen and by now they had drawn unwanted attention. “Just don’t do anything stupid.” 

Lee gave Neji a thumbs-up. “I promise I will use my wits to the best of my ability!” 

“Somehow, that doesn’t bring me comfort,” Neji said, staring back into Lee’s earnest face. “You’ll upset Tenten if you get hurt again. And Gai-sensei.” 

“Lee,” the Kazekage called. He was staring straight at Neji, right through him as though he could read Neji’s every thought. It sent a chill down his spine to stare back into those blank eyes. 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama! I must go, Neji. Please do not worry about me.” Lee smiled, moving away to join the Kazekage and Sayuu.

Neji sighed. “Someone has to,” he said to himself. “You certainly don’t.” 

***

Ino woke with her heart in her throat and a kunai in her hand, eyes darting around the pitch black forest. There was no moon, leaving her in a heavy darkness that made it difficult to seek out enemies—enemies that she knew were there even if she couldn’t see them. 

There was silence all around her; a silence so thick it made her ears ring. The beating of her heart was like a drum pounding in the quiet night loud enough to wake the dead. 

_But the dead are already here,_ she thought, closing her eyes and counting down from ten. Sakura had always been better at controlling her heart rate. The thought sent a pang of longing through her and she clenched her kunai, bringing the blade up to eye-level. 

There was a rustle to her right and she tensed, before sending her kunai flying through the air to embed in a tree with a soft _thunk_. The noise seemed louder to her in the heavy silence and her calming heart rate picked up again. She had never felt so vulnerable in all her life, not even when she would leave her body to possess an enemy—at least then she’d always had her teammates watching over her. 

Five tense minutes later, her heart rate slowed. 

It had to have been a bad dream, she reasoned knowing full well it hadn’t been. She wasn’t a hard sleeper—most shinobi weren’t, a necessary safety precaution—and she rarely ever dreamed. Something was out there, watching her; she knew it with every fiber of her being, but there was nothing she could do. She had no idea where the enemy was or how many there were, and in the darkness of the night the enemy had the advantage over her. 

She slipped another kunai from her satchel, pale eyes darting back and forth, searching the darkness. 

“I know you’re there,” she whispered, feigning bravery. Sakura’s voice sounded in her head, scolding her for such stupidity. There was a crunch as a twig snapped and she whirled around sending her kunai singing through the air. Silence met her ears and she waited with baited breath for the sound of metal hitting wood. 

“Did you think that would kill us?” a gravelly voice whispered in her ear. Her stomach dropped as the cool metal blade of a kunai— _her_ kunai she was absolutely sure—pressed against her throat. Her heart beat was erratic against her ribs and tears welled in her eyes. 

“Where are you from?” a familiar voice asked. 

“A-Asuma-sensei?” 

“Ino,” he breathed. “What are you doing out here? It’s not safe.” 

She laughed, trying to hold back the tears already streaming down her face. “I know—” The kunai against her throat dug a little deeper and she choked back her words. 

“This isn’t time for a touching reunion,” the other man rasped. “Kabuto won’t show mercy simply because she was someone you knew.” 

Ino swallowed thickly. “It’s okay, Asume-sensei. I-I’m not scared.” 

“Where are Chouji and Shikamaru?” 

“I can’t tell you that.” 

“Good girl,” Asuma said, his words thick in his throat. “How’s Kurenai?” 

“She’s—ack!” 

“That’s enough,” the other man snapped, raspy voice loud in Ino’s ear. 

“Don’t,” Asuma growled. 

“Do you think I would spare her? Do you think I could?”

Ino trembled, looking around in the darkness. “Asuma-sensei—”

A massive weight crashed into them, flinging her back. She rolled in the darkness as the sound of metal clashing resonated, followed by the heavy grunts of combat. 

“Ino! GO!” 

She scrambled to her feet, feeling blindly in the darkness for a safe path. The sound of fighting subsided all at once and she turned her head sharply. She could make-out, just barely in the darkness, the shadow of two figures standing before her in the clearing.

“I-Ino. I. Can’t,” Asuma said stiffly. 

She bolted, running pell-mell through the forest. Her heart rate was a drum calling death to her; the rapid beating of her heart masked the sounds of the forest and the footfalls of her enemies. Branches scratched at her face and tugged at her short hair; she tripped over roots and rocks, cutting her knees and the palms of her hands. She stumbled into a large tree, pressing her body against it as she tried to catch her breath. There was nowhere for her to go, no way for her to fight, no one to help—

“I’m going to die,” she whispered. 

“Yes. You are,” Asuma said, his voice hollow and the sound of metal singing through the air just beneath his words. 

Ino gasped as the cool blade of a kunai slid into her belly, warmth spilling down her side as it was pulled from her. She looked up into her sensei’s face, which was a dark shadow hovering before her, and smiled sadly. “I-I wish I could have been stronger, Asuma-sensei.” 

Asuma didn’t reply, and the world slipped away from her.

***

There was something to be said for the fine art of navigating the political games that ruled the shinobi world. It took a subtly that most shinobi lacked due to too many years of fighting. It turned most skilled warriors into blunt conversationalist with no head for the delicate workings of politic, leading to many feuds and misunderstandings between villages, clans, and allies. But Hinata had grown up in a family ruled by political life and she had learned from a young age how to move through that nuanced world. It would please her father, though not enough for him to entrust her with the future of the Hyuuga clan. He would only acknowledge her worth in death, she often thought. If she'd been sent on a different mission then maybe her father would be proud of her, but sitting at tables and talking would not impress him. He would only ever acknowledge skill in combat. 

It was for the best, though. While the political front was much safer and didn't offer the glory that battle did, Hinata did not want her father's approval only for physical strength and skill. She wanted to be acknowledged for who she was, and while she knew that eventually she would have to fight in this war, she had other skills she could use to help her comrades. If this was her last mission—and she was often struck with the fear that it would, that she would die and be unable to help protect those she cared for—then she wanted it to be a mission she could be proud of, one her father could not look at and criticize her for her failings. 

She knew she wasn't a failure; she knew she was strong in her own right, in many different ways. It was simply that one of her greatest strengths was not one her father could appreciate in her. Hinata could think clearly sitting around a table, dealing in words and documents and promises to keep. She’d developed a working relationship with the council, in part because she’d discovered, much to her dismay, that Elder Kaiou found her attractive. Without trying to she had been able to use her endowments to manipulate the situation in their favour, and though it left her feeling dirty and used, under the circumstances she felt it was a necessary evil and willingly sacrificed her comfort. The proceedings would have dragged on endlessly if she hadn’t learned to bat her lashes and blush at all the right moments, though it had helped a great deal that she had felt embarrassed by her own performance. 

It wasn’t a respectable end to their dealings with Ame, but it was a relief to know that a positive step forward had been taken. 

Amegakure had long been out of range of Hinata’s Byakugan, but the tallest tower was still visible over the treetops in the distance. The tower sent a chill through her. Remembering its many gruesome faces was like remembering a nightmare; it was Death stalking them through the forests; it was the eyes of the enemy watching them; it was a reminder that they were no longer safe, not even within the walls of their own villages. Suna was proof enough that not even the strength of a a great shinobi village could keep the enemy at bay.

If even the Kazekage was no match for such an enemy, what chance did she have of fighting them? And what use were her all-seeing eyes when they already knew that the enemy was pressing in on them from all sides? 

Whenever she doubted, whenever she felt scared, Naruto's grinning face always came to mind. She was fighting for a brighter, better future—a future where maybe, if she were lucky, he would see her as someone worth loving. All she needed was to be brave, strong, and confident, like him. She had failed to protect him once, but she wouldn't fail again. She couldn't fail, not now when every moment was crucial to their survival, not when his life was in even more danger. 

She tried to convince herself that she no longer feared death, but she could not deny that she feared the loss of those she loved. Her father would have scolded her for such worldly attachments, would have blamed her womanly heart on such weakness and silently wished that Neji were his son. She was not a mind reader, but she knew what was in her father's heart because she knew people. The womanly heart her father so cursed for her weakness—the one that he ignored in her sister—was what made her so adept at politics. She was not as sharp tongued as Shikamaru had said the Kazekage’s sister was and she certainly wasn’t a genius like him, but she did know people and that gave her an advantage they never expected her to have.

It was a strength her father would never acknowledge within her, but one she was proud of nonetheless. Her eyes saw so much more than he would ever give her credit for, and in her heart she knew now that she was strong, even when the doubts crept in. 

She wanted to cultivate that strength, she wanted to quash the fear that kept her up late into the night, she wanted to prove she was every inch the Hyuuga heiress she'd been born to be. Though she doubted often that she would see the end of the war, she hoped her heart was strong enough to see her through to her final purpose. 

And above all, she hoped she could see Naruto one last time. 

***

The entrance to Suna’s evacuation tunnel was now marked with a bloody hand print. Gaara stared blindly at the mark as the voices of his villagers filled his head. Eventually the hand print would fade, just as the memory of the war would—the mark was already a deep brown against the sandstone, but in the sunlight Gaara thought it still looked fresh. He imagined Kichiro and Akiko fleeing from the tunnel, Matsuo already lost to the enemy and Akiko dying in Kichiro's arms as they raced through the tunnel; he imagined Matsuo’s final moments as he formed the seals that would destroy the tunnel’s entrance within Suna leaving him at the mercy of their foe; his thoughts strayed to the moment when Kichiro and Akiko broke through into the hot sun—

“Kazekage-sama,” Lee said, his voice shattering the silence of Gaara’s grief. 

“The tunnel will be difficult to navigate,” he said distantly. He tore his gaze from the hand print on the rock. “I can clear a path for us into the village, but it will still be dangerous. Stick close to me at all times.” 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama,” Lee and Sayuu replied dutifully . 

Before he could allow himself to focus on the rock’s face, he formed the seals that would grant them access to the tunnel. The earth shook and sand hissed as the large stone was pushed aside, revealing an incline that led beneath the desert floor. Sunlight trailed down the slope, lighting upon the rubble that blocked their path. Gaara closed his eyes, extending his senses as far as he could and making a mental map of the demolished tunnel. He reached out, slowly parting his hands as though there were curtains before him; as he did so the earth gave a low growl as the rubble within the tunnel began to shift, a path opening up for them as his sand worked the rock into fine granules, slowly reforming the tunnel walls.

His radio communicator hissed suddenly and Temari’s voice rattled in his ear. “Gaara, we’ve got a problem.” 

“What is it?” The frequency buzzed in his ear, static over the radio that drowned out Temari’s words. 

“—Hyuuga’s—compromised—”

“Temari?” A tiny ball of anxiety blossomed in the pit of his stomach. 

“—unable to—”

“Temari, I can’t hear you.” 

The static subsided for a moment and Temari’s voice came in clearly. “—help—”

Gaara winced as the frequency cut off the rest of Temari’s sentence and a high pitched whine came through the speaker. He ripped the communicator from his ear, distantly aware of the sand moving at his feet. He took a deep breath and let it out, forcing himself to remain calm. 

“Kazekage-sama?” Lee asked, drawing Gaara’s attention from the still whining ear piece. 

“Kichiro’s team has been compromised,” he said numbly, his mind racing. “I need to contact my brother.” He turned the dial on his radio, opening up a new frequency. After a moment of white noise, there was a click and Kankurou’s familiar voice came over the line.

“Is everything all right?” Kankurou’s voice was fuzzy with static, but Gaara had no issues understanding him.

“Kichiro’s team has been compromised.” 

“What’s happened?” 

“I do not know,” Gaara said carefully, keeping a tight hold on the anxiety welling in him. “Temari’s message wasn’t clear. Something is wrong with her radio.” 

“Fuck,” Kankurou growled. 

“What are your coordinates?” 

“We’re a good fifteen miles from Temari’s team,” Kankurou said, not bothering with technical jargon. “Yana will get us there, don’t worry little brother.” 

Gaara let out a slow breath. “Hurry.”

“She’ll be okay, Gaara.” 

He shook his head. “We’re moving into the tunnel. Contact me once they’re safe.” 

“I will,” Kankurou said, and the radio went quiet. 

Gaara turned back to his team, coming face-to-face with Lee. “What has happened? Is everything all right?” 

“Kankurou’s team is heading north to aid the others. We’ll meet with them in a few days.”

“But—but what about the others? Should we not go help them?” 

Gaara looked back at Lee, that heavy weight he’d felt so often in the past few months settling on him once more. He had no energy to discuss the matter, nor did he know how. His sister might die in the coming hours and he didn’t have the power to stop it; for all he knew he was sending his brother to his death as well. But time was not on their side and the mission needed to take precedence. He would take time for grief later if at mission’s end there was need for grief, but for now he would push all worry and sorrow aside. 

“Forgive me, Kazekage-sama,” Lee said, before he could respond. He stared back at Gaara in earnest, something like understanding in his eyes.

Gaara nodded. “Let’s go.” 

***

The village was not the same without her. It was quieter and there was a dimness to it that he did not attribute to the grey skies that had come in from the east a week after she’d set out on her mission. The clouds had brought with them oppressive warmth that covered the village and threatened storms. It wasn’t until the thirteenth day that the rain started.

Chouji was awoken at midnight by a clash of thunder. Lightning flashed and the wind howled, pelting his bedroom window with rain. His heart was in his throat, beating wildly as though he’d just been in a battle. He swallowed, looking around his room as the drumming of his heart was drowned out by the sound of more thunder. His room was empty though, not a single enemy hiding in the shadows or the corners; but even as he convinced himself he was safe something heavy settled in the pit of his stomach. 

What had he been dreaming before the thunder had woken him? Had it been the thunder that had wrenched him from sleep? 

The memory of his dream was running away from him, but he could remember Ino’s white-blonde hair shining through the fog of sleep. He ran a hand down his face, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled over him. He pushed his blanket aside, getting out of bed and shuffling from his room. His stomach felt hollow and the knot that seemed to be growing made him crave something crunchy and salty. 

The bag of chips he took back to bed with him did very little to help his nerves, though. He ate slowly, trying to remember the vision of Ino, ignoring the storm outside in favor of chasing after fragments of his dream. He wondered just how far from home she was and if she was keeping warm in her ratty beggar clothes. It had shaken him to the core when she’d stopped by to say goodbye; he hadn’t been able to look her in the eye afraid that he’d forget the way she really looked. Her mission could last the entire length of the war for all they knew; he didn’t want to remember Ino as a frumpy beggar—she’d likely beat him over the head if he didn’t remember her as she truly was. 

Chouji shook his head, crushing the empty chip bag in his hands. The sound filled his room briefly, chasing away his thoughts. Ino would be fine, he tried to console himself. She was stronger than people gave her credit for and there was no way she’d let herself die looking the way she had. 

He tried hard to convince himself of this truth, but even as he drifted back off to sleep he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Ino was never coming home. 

***

“Shit,” Kankurou grumbled. “I can’t believe we rushed all the way over here for this.” 

Temari glowered at him, hand twitching towards her fan. “It’s not my fault our radio's fried.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head and clicking his own radio into life. “Gaara was worried.” 

“I can’t help that,” she said, but the tight line of her mouth gave away her guilt. “Is he all right?” 

Kankurou shrugged. “Don’t know yet. He hasn’t answered.” 

Temari shot Kankurou an anxious look, hand clenching around the handle of her fan. “Are they in the tunnel?”

“Last I spoke with him he said that’s where they were going.” 

“They can’t have made it into the village yet, then.” 

“How can you be sure?” 

Aizo cleared his throat behind them, drawing their attention. “The tunnel was completely destroyed. All thirty miles of it are now filled. The Kazekage will need to remove everything that’s in their path before they can reach the village and that will take some time.”

“Yeah, all right so he’s got miles of caved in tunnel to clear out, doesn’t mean he can’t talk to me for a few minutes,” Kankurou said, tapping his radio as a wave of static filled his ear. 

“If he’s underground,” Temari said, “there may be some interference.” 

“Damn. All right, then. I’ll leave the line open until he gets back in range then. How’s the Hyuuga?” he asked Aizo, sneering at the name. 

“Try to keep that to yourself,” Temari warned. “We don’t need any bad blood on this mission.” 

Kankurou scoffed. “It ain’t my fault he’s a thickheaded prick.” 

Temari rolled her eyes. “Just keep it to yourself or I’ll smack you. If you can’t keep it strictly business then keep away from him.” 

“How are you not trying to strangle him?” 

“Because we have a mission,” Temari snapped agitated. “I’m just as pissed as you about what he said, but we don’t have time for that right now.” 

“Woah, sis, take it easy. I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. I’ll keep it in my pants. Shit.” 

Temari eyed him for a moment, then nodded. 

“He’s still recovering,” Aizo said finally, staring between them. “But he’ll probably be all right by tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow? Can we afford the delay? Your team’s no good without his eyes.” 

“You think we don’t know that?” Temari interjected. “There’s nothing else we can do though; none of us are particularly skilled medics and it’s too dangerous for us to get any closer than we already are without him.”

Kankurou sighed. “So what’s the plan then?” 

“For the moment, we’ll stay here until he’s recovered,” Aizo said, glancing at Temari. “We’re at too much of a disadvantage to move forward and the Kazekage’s team cannot afford to wait for us to complete the mission.” 

“He’s right. We still need to visit the tribes. Plus there’s no telling how far along Madara’s gotten with his plans since we’ve been gone,” Temari said heavily. “As long as we’re here, we can’t waste any time. You and your team can go back to your station, and we’ll keep watch over here.” 

“Oh, no, sis. Not happening. Your radios’re broken—if something happens to you we’ll have no way of knowing. We’re staying together from here on out.” 

“Yana said she might be able to fix them,” she pointed out. 

“And if she fixes ‘em we’ll leave you to it. But until then we’re staying put.” 

Temari rolled her eyes. “Fine, but leave the Hyuuga alone.” 

Kankurou held his hands up in surrender. “I said I would!” 

Temari narrowed her eyes, huffed, and then pivoted around, heading into the gorge they’d taken shelter in. He shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. Aizo followed after Temari, leaving Kankurou to his own devices. 

He tapped the radio’s controls, hoping that Gaara’s voice would come in over the wire but there was only static. It had only been half an hour since they’d last spoken, so he was sure Gaara was all right but it still unnerved him letting his little brother venture into enemy territory without him or Temari watching over him. But if Kankurou had learned anything, it was how to have faith in Gaara.

After all Gaara had been through and overcome, he wouldn’t let this get the better of him.


	7. Master of the Undead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Madara plays at being the all-powerful enemy, he isn't the one who controls the dead. The shinobi world remains ignorant of all the key players within the enemy's ranks, but it their ignorance cannot last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managing another update this soon mostly because I fear that my good friend who's been reading and commenting might keel over if they get to the end of the last chapter and don't see a "next chapter" option. I can't say for sure, but chapter seven (well, I guess eight according to ao3) may be a while in coming? Things are picking up more and more with each passing chapter, and the editing process is getting more and more intense. Working on a story for six years means a lot of combing over for inconsistencies and double checking and triple checking things. Gotta keep that continuity and my timeline straight!!! The changing perspectives makes it hard sometimes to keep track of what happened when and in relation to what and who and how and--well, it's a lot to be getting on with, let's just say. Anyway! I hope everyone continues to enjoy! I am really excited to have so much posted and I really hope the people reading this are invested in the story and the characters. This chapter introduces some more OCs, one of which is my favourite! 
> 
> Also, I've started working more heavily on the sequel to this! Mind, I'm only two chapters or so in, but I'm still excited that I'm moving forward with the next installment! 
> 
> **Warning:** This chapter contains some violence, specifically it alludes to rape. I warred with myself for a long time about the scene in question. I kept it as non-graphic as possible, but regardless, I want everyone aware that there is a scene towards the end where it's implied.

It was a game. A game that, no matter how he looked at it, he would win.

He had laid out his pawns, used his trump card to obtain a powerful asset, and now all he needed to do was wait. The war was a convenient tool that distracted the shinobi nations from the rest of the goings-on in the world, and with each of the great nations slowly crumbling it was only a matter of time before they were no longer a concern.

Madara’s suspicions of him was his only real obstacle. He allowed Madara to hold onto the illusion that he was in control, that he was powerful, but the truth was apparent to both: Kabuto held all the power, Kabuto called the shots, he knew Madara’s secret, and it was _his_ army that made Madara so formidable. True Madara's shadow warriors were a dangerous foe, but even with such an advantage Madara was not fool enough to trust Kabuto or leave him to his devices for long. Kabuto's army was limitless. Madara's army was governed by his own will and chakra.

But Madara's real failing was that he could not understand Kabuto’s motivation; Kabuto was a loose cannon, rolling along the board that Madara had set up and knocking pieces askew. Madara never knew what to expect, and Kabuto’s presence and power had thrown a wrench into his plans. Kabuto enjoyed watching Madara’s attempts at keeping the upper hand, playing at power he didn’t truly possess and knowledge that he would never have. Madara’s threats were amusing; that he thought he could intimidate Kabuto into falling in line like a good little soldier was a source of great humor for Kabuto.

Of course he would play along with Madara’s whims for the time being. While Kabuto held the power, he still needed Madara’s foolhardy war for his own goals to come to fruition. Keeping Madara appeased allowed him the opportunity to keep his involvement a secret and gave him the best view to watch as the story unfolded. Though it was a story he’d rigged, there were still unpredictable elements that could change the tide at a moment’s notice, and until he could control the unpredictable aspects he would wait in the shadows. Of one thing he knew for certain, there was one thing he could predict above all else: Madara would fail. The shinobi world was still too powerful, and with idealists like Gaara of the Desert and Uzumaki Naruto rallying the troops there was no chance the five nations would fall so easily.

Kabuto had placed his hopes elsewhere, in much darker and more nefarious courses of action. So few shinobi understood the art of subtlety, and even fewer patience—Madara was no exception. His plans were too loud and brash, and his goal too wrapped up in his silly, misguided ideologies of peace. Kabuto had no such issues: he had grown fond of solitude and silence, of not being in the thick of it, but rather watching from the sidelines as the world imploded. He cared little for true peace. He preferred to revel in the power and glory of unspeakable knowledge—the type of knowledge that could undo a man. After all, there was something to watching the slow degradation of those strongest and most revered.

That was Madara’s biggest failing in the grand scheme of things: he was an idealist, while Kabuto simply wanted to watch the world burn.

***

Haruna stood at attention, awaiting the Raikage’s response to the news.

His disbelief was visible in his squinted eyes and down turned mouth, but he did not speak. He appraised her for a long moment in silence, perhaps trying to uncover some lie in her face or perhaps looking for signs of death: blue tinged lips, a dullness behind the eyes, an unaccountable paleness to her otherwise dark complexion—she didn’t know what one looked for in the undead. She had not yet encountered a member of the enemy’s army, a fact that was simultaneously a relief and a worry. Haruna had spent just shy of two months with her team scouting Otogakure at the behest of the Raikage. Despite their concerns, Otogakure was like a ghost town; all that remained were the bones of the misguided.

It had been one of the most unnerving missions of her career as a shinobi. The grey streaks in her otherwise black hair told of many years in the line of duty; the crow's feet around her eyes told of the horrors she had seen over her long years of service to Kumogakure. And though she had seen many gruesome things, the emptiness of Otogakure had shaken her to the core. They had expected to uncover an army, or at least they had thought they would find those faithful to Orochimaru and his failed experiments. But Oto had been nothing more than a tomb, the whispers of long dead shinobi echoing on the chill air that slipped in through cracks in the no longer tended halls.

With Otogakure abandoned and Orochimaru no longer a threat, they should not have had reason for worry.

But she had felt eyes on her within that mausoleum. Whether living or dead, a watchful gaze had followed her and her team through Otogakure.

“You’re sure of this?” the Raikage finally spoke.

“It is possible that I have misread the signs, but the rumors are too numerous. I cannot ignore the possibility that he is still at large."

The Raikage’s nostrils flared. “Darui,” he said, drawing the jounin’s attention. Darui’s shoulders were tense and his gaze out the window was severe. Though he looked for all the world as though he were intently watching the goings on of the village, Haruna knew he had been listening carefully to her report.

“What’s up, Boss?”

“Gather your teammates. You’ll leave for Rice Field tomorrow.”

Darui sighed. “Sure thing, Boss.” He moved towards the door, glancing at Haruna, mistrust in his gaze as his brown eyes slid over her countenance. She had little concern for his lack of trust; if anything it gave her faith in him. Such suspicion in dark times was the only way to stay alive.

“I’ll just be a moment,” he said at the door.

The Raikage nodded and Darui left.

“I’ll be informing the other Kage of this immediately. You and your team should rest now, while there is time.”

“Hai,” Haruna said, nodding once and bowing. “Raikage-sama.”

But there was no time to waste on a restful night’s sleep when the enemy was gaining strength with each passing day. Haruna had been a shinobi for forty-nine years, and while age hadn’t quite caught up with her, she knew that idleness in the face of war would.

***

“Welcome back,” Shibuki intoned. To Izumi, he looked like a statue come to life. His skin held the faintest hint of grey just beneath the surface and his veins had become more prominent in his face. Even his ink black eyes seemed dull to her. “Please forgive me, but I must make this a brief meeting. I am not feeling all too well.”

Izumi was unable to properly look to her teammates—the new teammates unaware of the situation, who still had life flowing through them—but she was sure they were as unaware of the danger as the Tsuchikage had been upon her return to Iwa. It was unfortunate that none of the shinobi of the great nations seemed to know what to look for in the undead forces. She only wished she had the strength to fight against the power that held her.

“We understand, Shibuki-dono. We were delayed on our journey and apologize for any inconvenience it may have caused you.” Kana’s voice was the gentle sweetness that Izumi had learned in the short time they had been teammates to associate with Kana’s anger. Once they had retired to their rooms she would most likely turn on Izumi. She had already threatened sending a written report to the Tsuchikage to explain Izumi’s supposed insubordination.

It was only thanks to Shibuki’s praise of Izumi and her teammates' handling of their previous mission there that Kana had not done more than make idle threats.

“It is nothing,” Shibuki said, raising a hand to wave the matter aside. His movements seemed stiff, as though he too were fighting against whatever force held his soul to his body. “Please take this time to rest. Tomorrow we will begin talks of war and other serious matters.”

“Hai, Shibuki-dono,” the team said as one. Izumi could not take her eyes off Shibuki, and though he seemed to hear her silent pleas, what could he do about it? They were both bound to serving the enemy, and neither had enough freewill to say anything out of turn, try as Izumi might to be the strong Iwa kunoichi she had been in life. It did not mean she was ready to give up though.

The doors opened and the shinobi who had shown them in entered.

“Please take our guests to their rooms and bring them food.”

“Hai, Shibuki-sama,” the men said, bowing.

Izumi’s teammates began filing out of the room, and she was not far behind, try as she might to keep herself from following after them.

“Izumi,” Shibuki called, halting her progress. His voice held the strained note she had heard in her own voice back in Iwagakure.

The doors shut before her and she was left alone with Taki’s leader. He was still so young, and though perhaps only a few years her junior the age gap seemed so much more to her now in death. He’d had a life ahead of him and the chance to someday turn Takigakure into a powerful village. But that future was no more—it had died with the villagers, now forced to walk the mortal world as spectres of their former selves.

“I had hoped you would not return.”

“As had I,” Izumi replied tersely. “I did all in my power to delay our return, but I am nothing compared to the power that holds us enthralled.”

“But you are fighting it,” Shibuki muttered.

There was a strange glint in his otherwise lifeless gaze. Izumi had heard many rumors about the cowardly leader of Takigakure but had never met him in life. The young man before her did not live up to his reputation.

She nodded. “And so are you.”

“Yes, but I am not strong enough—I can only do so much. The letter I wrote to your Tsuchikage was a test of my strength. I failed.”

Izumi frowned, her face, for the first time since death, felt like her own again. “It’s not your fault, Shibuki-dono.”

Shibuki waved a hand dismissing her placation. “There is no need for formalities. We are both the same, we are both prisoners of war... We are both dead. I am no better than you. Lower, perhaps. You were a Jounin in your life, while I was merely a Chuunin—”

“But you are—were also the leader of your village.”

“A village that, once this war is over, will no longer be. And, if the enemy has its way, your village and all others will meet the same fate.”

“I—I can’t believe that will happen."

Shibuki appraised her for a moment. “But the enemy is vastly powerful.”

“We will not give up. I will not give up, and neither should you. You can fight this!” she said fiercer than she’d felt in weeks. “You are not the coward rumor spoke of, you have strength enough to—”

Shibuki laughed. “Not a coward? In life, I was. But I’m dead now. What do I have to fear? I’ve failed my village, my people—they’re all dead. I am as fearless now as I should have been in life.”

“Then perhaps that is why you have this strength. If you are so fearless, then you shouldn’t fear this shadow—”

Shibuki raised his hand, silencing her. “You’re right, but what can I alone do?”

“I—I don’t know, but I’m not going to just give up,” Izumi huffed. “Perhaps you are afraid—afraid to have hope. And if that’s the case, then you are no more courageous now in death than you were in life.” She turned sharply, prepared to leave him to his hopeless wallowing.

“Are you sure that hope is all that can win this war?”

Izumi glanced back at him. “Hope is what gives us strength. I’m not going to give up hope, because if I do then I give up all free-will to whoever controls us. I will not call the monster who brought me back from death ‘master’, nor should you.”

Shibuki stared at her for a long moment, silent and serious. “You are right. If your returning teammates are as free as you to speak, then we should discuss our own plans for this war. I wish to be free of this cursed existence, I wish to see my people at peace and to know that the shinobi world lives on. I will gather the few I know who are still able to fight this power.”

“You mean to devise a plan to—”

“Hush. Now is not the time. Kimimaro and his subordinates went out to search for you when you did not return when we expected, but there is no telling when they will return. We don’t have time to make war plans now. After nightfall, we will rally the troops. Go now to your room. I will send for you when it is safe to discuss such things openly.”

Izumi nodded, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. The heavy fog that had plagued her seemed to fade, still there in the recesses of her mind but fainter now. She was no longer alone in this battle against their would-be master. Perhaps they could still recover their honor as shinobi, perhaps they could save their comrades and their villages.

***

Halfway through the tunnels Gaara collapsed.

Lee had noticed something was wrong an hour into their expedition, but had chosen to say nothing, instead keeping a careful watch on the Kazekage. He was generally unaccustomed to Gaara’s manner, but he’d slowly picked up on certain subtleties of habit throughout their long journey. Lee did not have the best memory for facts and figures—a fact that had made his academy days that much more difficult—thus he was a meticulous note-taker. However, there was no place for a notebook on their mission, and so he had done his best to make a mental list of important behaviors the Kazekage exhibited—after all, it was his duty to look after the Kazekage, and he would not allow all of the Hokage’s work and his own daring to go to waste.

His mental list was short because Gaara was an enigma to him. However, there were enough important points that Lee would not allow himself to forget anytime soon. For instance, when Gaara was in pain—which seemed a constant now that they had been away from Konoha for so long—he maintained the most neutral expression Lee had ever seen on anyone, but his hands would shake slightly and he was more prone to snapping orders rather than delivering them in his usual monotone. The worst was when Gaara’s stance would shift slightly, favoring his injured side, and a light sheen of sweat would break out on his forehead.

Usually, it was not Lee’s job to worry after the Kazekage, but with his siblings far away and out of range of communication, Lee had taken it upon himself to keep a careful watch on Gaara. He was sure Sayuu was doing the same, but she had been keeping a careful distance from Gaara for several hours now, and Lee thought perhaps she was unsure of how best to approach the Kazekage under such circumstances.

Of course, as a foreign shinobi, Lee did not think he was the best person for the job, but he was willing to set aside formalities for the sake of Gaara’s health.

The Kazekage pushed against the empty space between himself and the wall of rock that blocked their path, his sand sneaking in between the cracks of the demolished tunnel. There was a sinister sounding crunch, like bone snapping, and slowly the wall before them began to move. It stopped as soon as it began. The Kazekage moved his arms in the same motion, but nothing happened. His breath was coming in sharp bursts and his brow was dotted with perspiration and furrowed deeply as he stared at the wall. He was beginning to list to one side and Lee moved closer, waiting for the moment when Gaara would collapse with patience he was unaccustomed to.

“Kazekage-sama,” he said, but Gaara ignored him, attempting to press onward through the debris that refused to move now that his chakra had been so thoroughly depleted.

The caved in portion before them gave a low rumble and a few pebbles fell to the ground at the Kazekage’s feet.

“Kazekage-sama,” Lee tried again, “perhaps it is time to rest? We have been traveling for some time and—”

But Gaara was already falling back, the weight of his gourd pulling him down. Lee caught him, Sayuu right behind, anxiety bringing out the crow’s feet around her eyes.

“You have overdone it,” Lee said, gently.

Gaara looked up at Lee with unfocused eyes. There was a flicker of emotion—his brow scrunching and his mouth turned down severely—and then his expression went blank. “I am fine,” he said, his voice harsh with irritation, but stilted from pain. “I just need a moment.”

Lee and Sayuu shared a concerned look, but there was very little Gaara could do under the circumstances. He had pushed himself to his limit and not even his sand would listen to him now.

“You will rest,” Lee said, as much command as he could muster in his voice. “You are at your limit, Kazekage-sama. We shall wait here for a few hours until you have recuperated.”

Gaara let out a frustrated huff, wincing as his chest rose sharply with the effort. “We can only afford thirty minutes.”

“We will rest for as long as necessary,” Lee countered stubbornly. “Kazekage-sama, you are not at your best. It is not your fault, but you need to rest for as long as possible to regain your strength.”

“There is no time,” he said, a note of desperation in his voice that caught Lee off guard.

Lee sighed. “We have to make time,” he said softly, trying to be reassuring. “You are in no shape to keep moving. If you keep pushing yourself, you will only get hurt.”

Gaara narrowed his eyes, but a moment later he looked away. “Fine,” he relented, sounding almost like a child and not the leader of a great village.

Lee beamed. “I have some homemade dumplings if you would like. They are good for restoring energy and are an excellent aid in healing.” He removed his pack, rummaging in it for the box of dumplings he’d brought. They were handy to have in case of emergencies and Lee was sure Gaara would feel rejuvenated after having one.

“Please take one, Kazeakge-sama,” he said, extending the open box towards Gaara.

Gaara eyed the small, green dumplings carefully before reaching in and choosing the smallest one.

“It smells strange,” the Kazekage intoned.

Lee bristled. “That may be, but it is good for you. So eat up, please, Kazekage-sama!”

Gaara popped the dumpling in his mouth, pulling a face that Lee missed, too busy offering a dumpling to Sayuu (who politely declined) and looking through his bag for further first aid supplies to notice.

“Thank you,” Gaara said stiffly.

“It is nothing. I hope it will help you to recover some strength!” Lee enthused, placing the box aside as he continued digging through his things. He had brought many supplies on the journey, but Lee knew very little of the injuries Gaara had sustained during the attack on Suna and even less of what ailed him now. Perhaps Sayuu had medical supplies more suited to the Kazekage’s needs.

Sayuu was standing well away from them, watching Gaara intently. Lee did not understand why she felt the need to keep such a distance between her and her Kazekage. Perhaps it was just the nature of Suna's people, but something about her stance made him feel uncomfortable. Her expression, though neutral, held a hint of something in that Lee could not place. It must have been her concern for the Kazekage showing through her carefully constructed composure, Lee thought.

“Sayuu-san,” he called, rising to his feet. She stiffened at his approach, what little expression on her face flickering away behind a stoic mask.

“Is the Kazekage all right?” she asked evenly, not a hint of worry in the question, though her eyes flickered past Lee for a moment.

“He is resting now,” Lee assured. “The dumplings will help aid in boosting his energy, but I do not know what the best remedy is to ease his pain. We have been on the move for over two weeks now, and the Kazekage was not fully recovered before we left. All this travel has taken quite a toll on him."

“The Kazekage is strong,” Sayuu said, but there was no pride in her voice. “He will be fine given some time. We can’t afford to delay for too long. The war will not wait for us.”

Lee frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “That is true, but the Kazekage is in no condition to move and I do not think it would be wise to try and shift the rock without his help. It could cause a cave in. Perhaps in an hour or two he will feel better. Do you have any medical supplies that might help? I brought my own, but I do not know the best thing for him.”

Sayuu shook her head. “I know little of his condition and only brought the most basic supplies.”

Lee sighed. “Then I guess there is nothing more we can do for him.”

Behind Lee, Gaara shifted, a soft hiss escaping him and drawing Lee’s attention.

“Kazekage-sama!” Lee exclaimed, hurrying back to his side. “You should not be trying to stand right now! Please, do not—”

“My bag,” Gaara ground out. “In my bag, there is a balm.”

Lee paused for only a moment, then pulled his hands away from the Kazekage. Gaara’s bag was much smaller than anyone else’s, small enough that it could be tucked just beneath his gourd. It held the most basic of supplies: plenty of water, a great number of soldier pills, and a small container with the Leaf symbol on it.

“You travel very lightly,” Lee observed.

“I have little use for much else.” Gaara shifted, closing his eyes tightly as he did so. Lee rested his hand against Gaara’s shoulder, stopping his movements. “I am not going to stand, Lee. This position is uncomfortable and I find it difficult to breathe.”

Lee was quick to help the Kazekage into a more comfortable position, setting aside the large gourd and removing his own vest and rolling it up into a rather stiff but passable pillow that Gaara refused. Gaara let out an unsteady breath, his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists and more sweat breaking out on his forehead. His hands were shaking when he raised them to remove his coat and he fumbled at the buttons uselessly.

“Here,” Lee offered, batting Gaara’s hands away. It was times like this that he wished Temari or Kankurou were there to help. Gaara was not just any teammate, he was the Kazekage! A leader of a great village, a powerful shinobi that far outranked Lee. Even with their past, Lee was sure that it was highly unusual for a foreign Chuunin to be so familiar with the leader of Suna. Moreover, Lee was not a skilled medic nor was he all that gentle of touch. Sakura, though just as capable as Lee of putting a crater in the earth with a single blow, had the gentleness of a healer and would be more suited to administering such care.

Beneath Gaara’s coat and shirt, his right side was a dark purple. Lee sucked in a breath, staring at the mass of once pale skin, his stomach turning. Lee knew what it was to push one's self past the limit, but this was not just a simple matter of testing one's abilities, or grinning and bearing a minor injury. The internal damage to Gaara's body was obvious in the bruising all along his torso and in the uneven bump that had once been a perfectly intact rib cage. Lee looked up into the Kazekage's face, but Gaara did not meet his gaze, staring intently at the wall of rock blocking their path.

“Kazekage-sama,” Lee breathed, his throat constricting with the wave of empathy he felt, “you should have said something sooner.”

“It is unimportant,” Gaara said simply.

Lee wholeheartedly disagreed, but did not think there was much point in arguing. The Kazekage was a stubborn man, used to doing as he liked. Lee's concern would do little to change his mind, but he would keep a much closer watch on the Kazekage. Once they had reunited with the others, he would inform Temari and Kankurou at once. If he couldn’t get the Kazekage to listen to reason, then perhaps his siblings could.

“It is important,” he said, opening the small container. “But I suppose you will not listen to me.”

Gaara snorted, his hands tensing briefly. “You're one to talk.”

Lee grinned, dipping his fingers into the gooey salve. “I suppose that is true, but I have recovered fully since the last time I went all out. You are clearly still in need of bed rest.”

“There is little time for that, Lee. War waits for no man.” Gaara flinched as Lee touched his fingertips to the great purple spot that had become Gaara’s right side. Lee knew Gaara was right, but Lee was right too. Gaara should not have left the hospital, especially not for such a long, grueling mission. His injury was proof enough of Lee's statement: the bruise looked more like the war paint Kankurou used than actual flesh, dark yellow around the edges and spanning partway across his chest, leaving only a portion of his left side untouched.

“Your ribs feel as though they are still broken,” Lee said, doing his best to maintain the lightest of touches. He winced at the unnatural raise in Gaara’s side, pulling away to replenish the salve on his fingers.

“It didn’t heal properly. Perhaps after the war, something can be done about it.”

Lee frowned. “I do not know about that, Kazekage-sama. It has been nearly four months since the attack on Suna, and there is no telling when this war will end. I am no medic, but I am no stranger to the ways of the body, and I do not think re-breaking your ribs is an option. The bone does not feel right, and if not done properly it could cause permanent damage—I mean, more severe than it already is.”

“Then I will just have to get used to this,” Gaara acquiesced, though he did not sound happy about it.

Lee finished applying the balm to Gaara’s bruise in silence, lost in thought. They had lost so much and already they were being pushed to their limits. What else were they going to lose in the coming days? How far would they be pushed as the months passed by? He had already been separated from his teammates, as so many others had, and he wondered if fate would allow them to be reunited ever again. He wondered what it meant for Gaara to be so close to his home, but so powerless to take it back. The bruise he tended to now was nothing compared to the heartache he was sure Suna’s loss caused the Kazekage. It struck Lee that perhaps Gaara was punishing himself for his failure; perhaps by pushing himself, Gaara thought he was making it up to those he could not save.

Gaara let out a soft sound, like an injured beast, moving away from Lee’s touch.

“I am so sorry,” Lee said hastily. “I did not mean to press so hard.”

“It’s fine,” Gaara said, pulling his shirt down. “That’s enough for now. Thank you, Lee.”

“It is nothing, Kazekage-sama. If you need further assistance, please do not hesitate to ask. Your health is more important than this mission, even if you do not think so.”

Lee could feel Gaara’s gaze on him as he packed away the balm. The Kazekage’s scrutiny was a physical force that made Lee’s skin crawl, as though he were standing naked for all the world to see. It had happened often enough now that Lee was becoming used it, but the more it happened the more curious he was to know what exactly Gaara was searching for in him. Neji had always said Lee wore his heart on his sleeve—in fact, it was one of Neji’s favourite points to make whenever Lee let his emotions get the better of him. Lee was such an open book that no one ever bothered to look at him quite so intently; most people took one look at him and decided they knew everything they needed to know about him. But every time the Kazekage scrutinized him it seemed that he was attempting to read a foreign language that try as he might he simply couldn't translate. Lee could not guess what so baffled the Kazekage about him, but Lee thought the Kazekage appreciated his unwavering openness and honesty nonetheless.

Perhaps that was why Gaara had chosen him for this expedition. Maybe, unlike everyone else, Gaara did not see his honesty as a weakness at all; maybe he saw it as a strength. It was a hopeful thought, perhaps too naïve to be true, but Lee had never been anything but an optimist and so he held on to the hope, grateful that the Kazekage might think highly of him where no one else would.

***

The many sake bottles in Tsunade’s cabinet had been emptied months ago by Shizune, but there was one small bottle Tsunade had not told her of that had been hidden behind a loose board in the wall of her office. She had saved it for dire circumstances when nothing but alcohol would calm her nerves and clear her mind. Even in times of war, Tsunade thought it acceptable to indulge her vice at least once, especially considering the news she had just received.

On her desk, nearly lost to the sea of scrolls and maps, was a small sheaf of paper with only a few lines of text that had been translated earlier that day. Just like that, with only a few simple phrases her entire world had come crashing down. The bad news seemed to keep piling up, and it was now a mountain that threatened to topple down on her and the entire shinobi world. As if Madara was not formidable enough, they now had to concern themselves with _him_. She had tried to convince herself that the decoders had gotten the message wrong, had misread a character or two. But even as she denied the possibility of it, the knowledge seemed to grip her like a snake coiled about her body. It simply could not be possible; he could not still be alive.

The loose board was broken cleanly in half as Tsunade, in her desperation for relief, wrenched it from the wall. Had Shizune been there, she would have scolded Tsunade something fierce for it, and the thought made Tsunade smile wistfully, longing for simpler times with such ferocity that she thought the power of her desire alone would grant them. The bottle was dusty from too many months hidden away in the wall of her office, but it shown like the first sun after a storm. It was her salvation from this harsh reality and Tsunade gripped it reverently, the dust rising in a cloud and trailing after her as she took her treasure to her desk.

She and the bottle were well acquainted, so she skipped formalities, uncorking it quickly and bringing that sweet bitterness to her lips. Her mouth tingled as that heavenly liquid slid longingly across her tongue and down her throat, burning wonderfully as it did so. Of course, it would take more than one small bottle of sake to do her in, but it would be enough, and she murmured her thanks into its mouth, licking her lips to catch any stray drops.

If only circumstances were not so dire she could have spent hours with that bottle clutched in her hand. But their time was short lived. Tsunade finished quickly, moaning half in pleasure and half in agony when the last of it was spent, her vision still clear and her mind still painfully focused on the present moment. Her reprieve from the war was over before it had even begun and her thoughts snapped back to it like a trap ensnaring prey.

Hopelessness settled on her, weighing her down with intent to crush the life from her. She could see no other options, now. The other Kage would arrive soon enough, and with Gaara still gone and possibly never coming back, Tsunade saw her opportunity to change the tide of the war. They were completely out of options: Naruto had to come home.

***

The group of children before her seemed so small, sitting on bent knees, staring up at her and her teammate in wide-eyed fascination. Tenten wondered if she had been that small when she was a Genin. It seemed so long ago, another lifetime, and her memory was surely skewed; she was sure she had never been this tiny and innocent. She had always been a warrior, hadn't she?

She could remember the first time she had held a kunai: how it had felt in her hand, the cool metal bound by cloth at the handle, the way the sharp blade had pricked her tiny finger when she’d touched it. She had stared at the blood that welled up as a small dot on her finger for a moment, and then she had looked at the tip of its blade and cried.

It had been love from that moment on. Her grandmother had told her that for a blade to cut its master before an enemy was a good omen, and she had given Tenten permission to name the kunai. She had named it Little Dragon, and when she’d started at the academy she had taken it with her every single day, waiting eagerly for the lessons on weapons.

Tenten contemplated if the many little girls present had been as disappointed as she had been when they’d spent the first half of their academy days learning to assort flowers and do other so-called womanly tasks expected of housewives and shop keepers.

“How many of you have been on missions?” Higen asked the twenty-four gathered children. He was a Jounin of Suna, five years Tenten’s senior, who specialized in chain weapons. He held the long chain of his kusarigama in one hand, allowing the weighted end of it to brush the blades of grass at his feet, and in the other hand he held the scythe-end, twirling it like a baton.

For a moment none of the children moved, and then hands rose tentatively, one by one. There were only ten hands in the air after a minute of silence.

“How many of you have experience using weapons other than kunai and shuriken?” he asked.

The hands dropped. None rose to replace them.

Tenten’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. They were just children; not a single one of them had faced anything more fierce than stray alley cats. The life of a shinobi was still new to them and now they were being thrown into the fray with barely a chance to comprehend the dangers ahead. Her heart broke for each of the children before her, for the innocence they were about to lose as they were molded into warriors, for the ones who would die in the war, for the ones who would outlive their friends. The list the council had given Tenten and her nine comrades had been too long: one-hundred and twenty newly made Genin, all too young to fight, forced into it because there simply was no other option.

“Then you have much to learn,” Higen said. “You will not be on the forefront of battle, but you must never forget: the battle is all around us. At any moment the enemy may breach the walls of our village and if you are not prepared then you will die.”

The youngest child began to cry.

“Higen,” Tenten chided. “They’re just kids.”

“It is time they became true ninja,” he replied, not bothering to keep his voice down. “If death frightens you, then you are not fit to fight for your village.” He stared into the weeping child’s face until silence fell. The child hiccuped, small and frightened but suddenly docile. “We have been tasked with teaching you to use a variety of weapons that you have never seen. Many of them are dangerous not only to enemies, but to the one who wields it."

“Does anyone know what this is?” he asked, holding up his chain-scythe.

A trembling hand rose into the air. “It’s a kusarigama, Higen-sensei.”

Tenten smiled, relief blossoming in her chest. If there was even one among this group that knew, perhaps they were not so hopeless a bunch.

“And do you understand how to use it?”

“Y-yes, but I have never used one.”

Higen hummed. “That is about to change. Usually, Genin would not be taught to use such advanced weaponry. However, when the rest of us are on the front line in battle, you will be tasked with protecting the village. This is why you must learn to be versatile shinobi. We cannot wait for you to grow into your particular strengths and skill sets.”

Something in Higen shifted, Tenten saw it like the flash of a blade in sunlight but was still caught off guard when Higen bowed. “Forgive us for thrusting you into war so soon, but your villages need you. Be brave now and take up arms.” He straightened just as suddenly. “Tenten.”

Tenten blinked, then remembering herself, she unfurled her weapons scrolls before the class. The children did not “ooh” and “aah” at the sight of them, but took them in with a calm acceptance that Tenten would not expect of children so young and warriors so inexperienced.

The war had already taken away their childhood. Tenten bowed her head, closing her eyes as Higen guided the Genin in choosing a weapon from her scrolls to begin practicing with. She could not stand to watch their tiny hands gripping weapons much too big for them; she could not bear to witness the transformation from child to warrior that was taking place.

Her grandmother would be ashamed of her for being so soft. Weapons were not meant to live on shelves and in scrolls, forever unused. They were meant to be used in battle, they were meant to be wielded. Tenten’s shame was a slight to her profession and family trade. If her grandmother could see her, she would be disowned.

When she opened her eyes again, each child stood with a weapon in hand, looking even smaller than they had before and even more lost. She rose to her feet, taking in the weapons each child had chosen. At the far end, a tiny gasp broke the silence. Tenten turned to see the young girl who had recognized the kusarigama with her finger in her mouth, a drop of blood on the blade she had chosen. It was the head of a Dragonfly Cutter, a great spear and one of Tenten’s favorites in her collection.

The young girl did not notice Tenten’s approach, large tears in her eyes as she stared at the spear head.

“Are you all right?” Tenten asked, gently tugging the girl’s hand away from her mouth. The cut was thin and precise—nothing less from such a beautiful blade, Tenten thought proudly. Blood rose from the cut, dripping down the side of the girl’s finger.

“Ha-hai,” she whispered, fighting back tears.

“What is your name?”

“To-Tonboko.”

Tenten smiled, patting her head. “Then it is fate that you have chosen this blade. Do you know what this is?” Tonboko shook her head. “It is a Dragonfly Cutter. Do you know what it means when a blade cuts the one who wields it before it cuts an enemy?”

Again, Tonboko shook her head.

“It is a good omen. The blade has chosen you, and that means you get to name it.” Tenten pushed a stray strand of hair from the girl’s face. “That means this blade was meant for you and you for it.”

“I-I like it.” Tonboko smiled, fat tears leaking down her face, and Tenten knew why she had felt such a kinship with this girl. “I-I can name it anything?”

“Anything.”

Tonboko bit her lip, looking down at the blade for a long moment. A chill wind blew through the grass as the young girl thought, the rest of the Genin watching on curiously. Finally, she looked up into Tenten’s face, smiling.

“I want to call it Demon Cutter,” she said, the shyness overshadowed by the bright light of confidence in her eyes. “And all of the bad shinobi will be afraid of it and the monsters won’t come to Konoha, right?”

Tenten wanted to believe that the name alone would be enough to fend off the enemy, but she knew it was not true. It might have shown in her face, for Tonboko’s expression faltered.

“Of course,” Higen said behind them. “That is a good name for your new friend, Tonboko. Take care of it and it will take care of you. Now then, let us begin.”

Tenten rose to her feet, watching as the Genin lined up, some holding their weapons awkwardly as if frightened by them, while others held them reverently before them as though they were seasoned shinobi and not children.

By the time the war was over none of them would be children anymore. That was the reality of shinobi life, a reality they had all accepted before obtaining their hitai-ate, and there would be no sense in hiding it from them now.

Tenten took up her place at Higen’s side, and forgot her concerns and her guilt.

***

Far off she could hear a voice. It struck something in her, something that death could not touch, and she felt her body move. Slowly her body moved to the hum of that whispering voice that sounded in the darkness of the in-between she had awoken in.

It was soft and luxurious, like music, and she thought she could dance if only she weren’t on the brink of death. It purred in her ear, laughing seductively, and she would have smiled if only she had a mouth. All memories of life seemed to fade. She wondered if she had ever been alive at all or if perhaps Death was all there was. What else could there be besides that voice and that cool warmth that surrounded her, caressed her like the lover she’d never had, beckoning her onward, deeper, deeper into the darkness.

But then blinding light filled her senses and she knew Death no more. Above her, a familiar face, enshrouded in shadow, hovered. A pair of mirthful yellow eyes stared into her very soul, jump starting her heart. She felt the burn of life, the sharp pain in her abdomen, and the cold hands of her captor running the length of her body. Her breath was held between her lungs; she tried to cry out, she tried to move, but there was no hope for her. Her body was numb and the last vestiges of strength had gone out like a candle upon waking.

Kabuto grinned wickedly. “Welcome,” he greeted. He moved away, revealing a dimly lit room covered in shelves which were stacked with jars of all manner of ungodly and gruesome things. Ino whimpered, her resolve to escape clawing at her, even as she lay motionless on the cold metal table. She was naked beneath a white sheet, and she could see bloody utensils on a tray from the corner of her eye.

“No use in struggling,” Kabuto murmured from somewhere in the room. He had melted into the shadows. Ino’s eyes darted wildly around seeking him out.

“H-help,” she managed, though her mouth barely moved.

Kabuto laughed lowly, the sound echoing around them. “There is no one here to help you, Ino-chan. In fact, you are here to help me.”

“N-never. I—will—never—help—y-you.”

He reappeared above her, that sickly grin still in place. “I was not giving you an option,” he purred. He held a small scalpel in hand, turning it this way and that so that the dim lights glinted off it. “You are going to be very useful to me, indeed. Would you like to hear the ways in which I’m going to use you to betray your village?”

Ino’s eyes burned and her lip trembled. “N-no. P-please.”

“Don’t you want to know how you’re going to kill your friends?” Kabuto asked, smile broadening. “I have such plans for you. Don’t you want to hear them? Aren’t you even slightly curious?”

“Monster,” she spat with as much venom as her tired voice could muster.

The scalpel was brought to Ino’s temple, and though she could not move even a finger she felt the pain as the tiny blade cut at her skin, warm blood rolling down her face and into her eyes. She closed them tight, tears welling, and tried to fight back the urge to scream.

“You and I both know there’s no way for you to escape. Why not just accept your fate?”

He was right, Ino thought distantly through the pain. She would die here and then be used as one of his pawns, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. What a pathetic way to die, she thought distantly as the pain spiked. Ino ceased to be aware of what parts of her body Kabuto was ravaging with his scalpel, the pain so bright that her body burned with it until the last vestiges of cold death had left her. She wondered how long it would last before she passed out, and only hoped it was soon so that she could be blissfully unaware of Kabuto’s plans for her.

***

The rocks crumbled to sand and molded to the sides of the tunnel with a low rumble. Gaara stumbled into the side of the newly formed wall, relief welling in him.

“We’re here,” he managed through clenched teeth, trying to keep his breathing even and his heart rate steady. His pulse had quickened hours ago as he worked through the pain, determined to make it to the entrance of Suna before nightfall. He had eaten three more of the bitter dumplings Lee had brought with him and been forced to stop twice to have Lee reapply the salve that dulled the pain only a small fraction. By now, even the salve would do him no good. He needed rest and a medic, and he would have cried from joy at being able to finally stop moving if he had been so inclined to such shows of emotion.

Lee was at his side in an instant, helping him to remove his gourd and guiding him to the tunnel’s floor.

“Do you need anything?” Lee asked, anxiety shining in his face.

“Just a moment,” Gaara replied unsteadily.

Sayuu stood a ways back, watching them as she had done every time they had stopped. The reluctance she showed in approaching Gaara set him on edge, but he did not begrudge her it—she had been at the center of his earlier rage and her many years as a Suna shinobi had taught her to fear him long before he’d been a Genin. He trusted her to serve her village, regardless of her fears. He would not hold it against her, and at least he had Lee to watch over him, surprised as he was by the assistance and reluctant as he was to admit the need for it.

Lee was rummaging in Gaara’s sack for the balm, drawing the Kazekage’s attention back to his exuberant comrade. “Lee,” Gaara said, voice gruff from pain. Lee had taken to ignoring Gaara whenever he tried to dissuade him from tending to his injury, though it seemed difficult for Lee because his gaze always snapped up to Gaara’s for a brief moment before dropping away as though he hadn't failed in ignoring Gaara.

Gaara reached out a shaking hand to Lee’s calloused ones, stopping him from opening the small container that would do Gaara no good at this point. It was agony, he would not deny it, but he knew there was nothing he could do now but bear it.

“Kazekage-sama,” Lee huffed, irritated but finally looking up at Gaara.

“It won’t help,” he said, trying to steady his voice and failing. “It would just be a waste.”

This did nothing for the anxiety that seemed to plague Lee. His youthful face seemed suddenly much older to Gaara as he wrinkled his forehead in worry, frown nearly a pout and eyes welling with tears. Lee was not the worrying type, Gaara thought. He was naive and hopeful and did not leave room for doubt; it was a stark contrast to Lee’s usual demeanor to see him so weighted by anxiety.

“I will be fine,” Gaara said, though that seemed so impossible in the face of the white-hot pain that had taken over his body.

“I wish Sakura-san had come with us,” Lee said desolately.

“Her mission is more important than tending to me,” Gaara replied, though he shared in Lee’s desire. “I appreciate your concern, though. The dumplings are helping.”

Lee brightened somewhat, removing his own pack to seek out the dumplings in question. “I am glad that they have been so helpful. Would you like another?”

“Save them. Once we have finished here, we must make way for the Red Gorge tribe, and there are many other tribes in Suna we must speak with.”

“Oh,” Lee said softly, setting the box of dumplings back in his bag. “I had forgotten.”

“I will last the journey. Between you and my siblings, I am sure that I will not be permitted to work myself to death.” Gaara was not good at lighthearted joking; he did not understand the best ways to ease tension in others. He was blunt, his words precise, and his expression rarely gave the impression that he was anything but somber and moody. Temari had explained to him once that in matters of diplomacy it was best that he avoid any attempts at humor entirely, lest it cause political unrest when others misunderstood his intentions. It seemed Lee was just as incapable of deciphering his poorly executed jokes.

“Please do not say such things,” Lee said, looking stricken.

“I meant nothing by it, Lee.”

Lee shook his head, looking away. “Rest, Kazekage-sama.”

“I am resting,” Gaara pointed out.

But there was little time to relax. The remaining rubble blocking the entrance into Suna was all that ensured they were left undetected by the enemy, (assuming the enemy did not sense Lee’s chakra so inexpertly masked.) Gaara’s sand slithered into the cracks, escaping into Suna with ease. Lee watched the tendrils snaking away and out of sight, frowning.

“You should wait to expend anymore chakra,” he said. It was a request, as much as anything Lee said to Gaara was, but it held a hint of reproach in it nonetheless. “Your siblings will be most upset with me when they see your condition.”

“You are not my keeper, Lee, and they know that. Besides, my siblings don’t need to know.”

Lee bristled. “You should not keep this from them! They _do_ need to know.”

“They will only worry needlessly, as you have done,” Gaara said, a hint of irritation in his voice. “We are miles from a hospital and we have a mission to see through. If they know, then they will worry and put themselves at risk for my sake. I do not want that to happen.”

Lee seemed determined to stare Gaara down until he gave in, but determined as he was, Gaara would not be moved. He matched Lee's determination for stubbornness, far more experienced than Lee at such things after years of dealing with a council hellbent on undermining his every decision. Finally, Lee looked away. “If you think it is for the best then I will keep this from them, though I am uncomfortable with it.”

“Thank you.”

By then Gaara’s sand had scattered about the village, sneaking under foot of the many enemies that now called it home. A dim imprint of the village filled Gaara’s mind, and he fell quiet within the tunnels, expression distant as he kept his feelings in check. The village was unrecognizable and it was not due to the incomplete image the sand offered: there were piles of rubble at every turn; countless buildings had been destroyed or vandalized; and the bodies of his people littered the streets or peaked out from the rocks that had crushed them. Gaara’s sand rolled as if blown on a wind until finally it reached his office.

The Kazekage offices still stood tall, if no longer proud, at the center of the village. His sand felt out the damage to the outside of its walls where holes had been blown in it. Sand slithered inside and Gaara activated his Third Eye Jutsu. The large brown eye hovered for a moment, scoping out the wreckage within the building and seeking out potential enemies. The lower level was a mess: there were scrolls everywhere, some ripped and burnt; desks had been flipped and filing cabinets ransacked. Nothing was left untouched.

The eye floated close to the ceiling, hiding in the shadows and making its way up towards the Kazekage’s office, a thin trail of sand snaking behind it. Vibrations tickled the sand as it settled near the door to his office which was open just a crack—just enough for the floating eye to peer into the room beyond where Deidara stood at his desk, cloak open and blocking Gaara’s view of what was happening.

Further vibrations within the room set the sand jumping: a groan, and then another, all in time with the rocking of Deidara’s body.

Gaara frowned, confusion and unease settling on him.

“—chr—desk—”

A word came through the vibrating sand followed by an abrupt sound; it was hazy and low, difficult to make out but Gaara did not dare command the eye to enter the room so he might read Deidara’s lips. His sand would have to suffice as his ears, and hopefully Deidara would turn so that Gaara might see his face.

Lee caught Gaara’s attention briefly. He was beginning to fidget, his fingers tapping lightly against his bent knees in a rapid rhythm and his eyes darting around the tunnel. Behind him Sayuu had finally given up on her wary watch of Gaara and was resting, drinking water from her canteen for a moment before returning it to her pack.

When Gaara’s attention had focused once more on the scene within his office, Deidara was sitting behind his desk looking sickeningly satisfied and a young kunoichi was crumpled in a heap on the floor before the desk, her clothes askew and fresh blood on her leg. Within the tunnel, the walls shook and his gourd burst into millions of hot grains before he could control his temper. Lee and Sayuu barely managed to cover their faces in time, and Gaara’s eye caught the flicker of silver from a kunai before it slipped back into Sayuu’s pouch.

“Forgive me,” Gaara said stiffly.

Deidara’s mouth moved and the sand vibrated. Gaara forced himself to look away from the woman on the floor and to stare at the monster behind his desk.

“Get up,” Gaara read from Deidara’s lips. “Is that how you show thanks to your Kazekage?”

The walls in the tunnel shook again, but Gaara managed to keep himself mostly in check. Lee shared a look with Sayuu.

A broken sob resonated through the sand. The woman—he recognized her suddenly, through the blood and grime on her face, Yua—spat on the floor, her teeth bared. “You are not my Kazekage.”

Deidara’s laugh echoed. “Where is your Kazekage then? Some leader, uhn! He left you here to die; he’s allowed us to destroy his village! Uhn! He is weak; hardly fit to be called Kazekage.”

It made Gaara sick to agree with Deidara, but the thought had plagued him for many months now. No one had dared say such a thing; many had denied it; some had applauded his skill as the leader of Suna even, but he knew the truth: he should hang up his hat and robes, pass the title on to someone more worthy, more capable.

“The Kazekage of Suna is a great man,” Yua said, drawing Gaara's attention back to her. “He will end you before this war is over.”

Deidara slammed his hands onto the desk, rising to his feet. “Your Kazekage was not fit to face me when I was alive, uhn! He was no more capable four months ago! What makes you think he can face me now?”

“Because,” she said, pushing herself up on shaking arms to glare up at Deidara. Whatever she said was lost to Gaara as she turned away, speaking too soft for the sand to decipher the sounds clearly.

Deidara’s lip curled and he raised a hand. Yua didn’t flinch and Deidara’s nostrils flared as he brought his hand down on her. The force of his slap tossed her to the ground, but she did not cry out.

“Your faith in him is sweet,” Deidara said, and Gaara could almost hear the purr in his voice. “But if he did survive my attack, then I promise you he won’t make it to his next birthday.”

Yua didn’t say anything, squaring her jaw and glaring at Deidara. Gaara could see that she was done talking; Suna’s shinobi were not weak the way Deidara might think and he would get little else from her, no matter how he might bait her.

“I could kill you for your insolence. Then you’d join the ranks of my army and be forced to praise me.” He rose, stalking towards her, his footsteps shaking the eavesdropping sand. Deidara bent, grabbing Yua’s hair in a firm grip and pulling her face to his. His lips barely moved, his teeth bared as he spoke. “I,” he enunciated, “will have you. On your knees. You will be dead and cold, and I will make you scream my name while your Kazekage is forced to watch."

Yua curled her hand, fingers bent awkwardly and then she raised it swiftly, long nails biting deep into Deidara’s skin. “We will destroy you,” she growled. “We will find a way. And when that day comes, I will look down on you and laugh.”

Gaara wanted to cancel the jutsu; he wanted to abandon all pretense of stealth and burst through the fallen rock into Suna; he wanted to save Yua and the rest of his people.

But he knew he couldn’t.

“Kazekage-sama,” Lee breathed, sounding far away and breathless. “Is…is everything all right?”

Gaara swallowed, his attention shifting to Lee, though he kept the jutsu activated and his self-control in check as he watched Deidara strike Yua again.

“No.” He became distinctly aware of the wetness trailing down his face. Crying in the desert was a dangerous thing; you could easily become dehydrated and the water in your canteen was too precious to use frivolously. But the tears did not stop; his hands shook as he touched his face with his free hand, wiping them away. “Everything is not all right, Lee."

Sayuu was on her feet, standing behind Lee, the closest she had been to Gaara since his outburst. Though it was not easy to see in her stoic expression, there was the light of concern in her eyes. “Kazekage-sama, please do not cry. Suna is not lost to us forever.”

“Ko-Konoha will help you get it back,” Lee promised, tears of his own falling in fat drops down his face. Gaara did not know if his heart could take it; the doubt in him warred with the hope, there was a heaviness that immobilized him and he felt the ringing of anxiety throughout his body as the darkness closed around him again, trying to steal that ounce of hope his comrades were trying so desperately to restore in him.

Within his office, Yua crumpled, unconscious on the floor. Deidara wiped his hand off on his cloak. “Matsuo, take her back to her cell. I’m finished with her.”

The large figure of Matsuo stepped into view, picking up Yua and tossing her limp body over his shoulder.

“Let me know if she dies, uhn. Maybe by morning there will be a new member to your ranks.” His grin was not gleeful, but there was a madness to the curve of it that spiked Gaara’s anxiety. He had to save his people; he could not leave them at the mercy of this mad man.

“Kazekage-sama!” Lee and Sayuu cried as he rose to his feet. Lee’s hand was strong on his shoulder, easily keeping him from moving further.

“I can’t leave them,” he said. The jutsu had ended the moment he’d stood, leaving him with nothing more than the memory of Yua’s abuse to report to his team.

“Please, you can’t go in there,” Sayuu said. “You are still injured, Kazekage-sama. They will surely kill you—”

“Then I will die with my people as I should have months ago!”

Lee’s fingers dug into Gaara’s shoulder so hard he thought the bone might break. He forced himself to look up into Lee’s face, to face Sayuu who he had failed as he'd failed the rest of his people. How could they ask him to leave his people behind? To leave Yua at the mercy of a monster? How could they ask him to cast aside the pain of his people for his own life?

“Kazekage-sama,” Lee said, his voice thick. “I understand, but you cannot go. Your people do not want you to die; they want you to live so that you can bring them home. And you _will_. Please, Kazekage-sama, whatever you have seen, you must remember the mission.”

Gaara let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “It is strange to think of you reminding me of this.” He shook his head. “If you knew—if you had seen… you would not ask me to stay here; you would not dream of leaving them behind.”

Lee nodded. “But I am not the leader of my village. My death is of little consequence compared to yours. Your people need you, Kazekage-sama. You cannot abandon them to ease your guilt.”

“Please, Kazekage-sama. He is right.”

Gaara bowed his head, closing his eyes tight. He had never expected to hear such wisdom from Lee, but he could not argue against it. If he entered Suna, Lee and Sayuu would undoubtedly follow, and all three of them would die. His siblings would not abandon him and if he did not return they too would venture into their overrun village to meet their deaths. The mission had to come first, as it always did.

“We should return to the others,” he finally said, the words coming thick like molasses with the weight of his guilt. His heart was heavier than it had been only minutes before and he did not know how long he could carry the burden of it alone, but he would persevere for his people. “There is still much we must do before we can return to Konoha. For now, we are done here.” He glanced at Sayuu, catching her gaze and holding it. “But we will return. And when we do we will take back our home. I promise.”

Sayuu nodded once. “I will gladly fight at your side when that day comes.”

Lee seemed beside himself with feeling, his eyes still streaming, though he managed to keep himself from speaking and quickly wiped at his face. He helped Gaara stand, picking up the reformed gourd and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I can carry that,” Gaara said.

“Forgive me, but you cannot. It is not heavy, Kazekage-sama.” Lee gave Gaara a thumbs-up, pulling Gaara’s arm over his shoulder. “And I can also help you walk. There is no need for you to exert yourself anymore.”

Gaara shook his head, eyes wide in disbelief. “You are very strange,” he said. Lee grinned.

“Is that not why you trust me, Kazekage-sama?”

Sayuu snorted, looking unlike herself in her amusement. It was strange to see any of his ANBU so at ease anywhere, but he was pleased that she had cast aside her fears of him. Though he was still burdened by the memories of Yua, it lightened his heart to see Sayuu smile. He hoped that he could see all of his people smile again, back home and safe from the dangers of war.

As Sayuu led them away from Suna, Lee’s strong arms relieving Gaara of some of the weight on his side, he glanced back at the wall as though he could see Yua still and made a promise to himself not to waver on his path again. The mission had been difficult, emotionally taxing and physically draining, but he wouldn't let himself falter. He would be strong for his people, as they had been strong for him.

***

“The council is ready. We may begin.”

“Without the Kazekage?” Mei asked, taking a seat beside Tsunade.

“Unfortunately the Kazekage is away—still on his mission, correct, Tsunade?” Homura said, a trace of condescension in his voice. “He has been gone quite some time now. A month is it?"

“A little more, I believe,” Koharu said, smiling benignly beside Homura. A Suna councilman cleared his throat in irritation, drawing her gaze. “Are you catching a cold, Hayato-dono?”

Hayato snorted. “I am in perfect health, Koharu-dono,” he replied, sneering her name. “I appreciate your concern, of course.”

“Of course, Hayato-dono.”

There was not enough space in the small room to make way for the tension that had filled it upon the arrival of the two councils. Sunagakure’s councilmen had been belligerent in divvying out missions on the Kazekage’s behalf, throwing around snide comments about the way Konoha was run left and right, while Konoha’s council had to differ to Tsunade. While Tsunade and her advisors had never got on well, they could agree on one thing: their dislike of Suna’s councilmen.

“Have you heard anything from the Kazekage?” the Raikage asked, breaking up the tension in the room, though only briefly: talk of the Kazekage was a sore subject among the council of Suna.

“He does not have the means to report back to us,” Hayato said. Beside him, his fellow councilman let out a dusty cough that might have been a laugh.

“Or perhaps he cannot report,” he wheezed.

“Such dark thoughts, Gorou-dono,” Homura said. “Surely you have more faith in your Kazekage than that.”

“Faith?” he repeated, bitterly. “Faith in a monster? Is faith all you Leaf shinobi ever talk of? Faith and hope—ha! This is war, dammit! We’re not playing make believe.”

“No one is suggesting we are,” Tsunade snapped. The headache that had been threatening to come blossomed slowly behind her eyes. She closed them, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “We shouldn't waste time discussing the Kazekage and his mission. If and when Gaara returns, you will all be made aware of it and any information he has learned will, of course, be reported. At the moment, our priority is the news of Orochimaru.”

The gathered village leaders shifted uneasily, the two Konoha council members sharing looks, and Suna’s council stiff as statues.

“Well, Raikage? Your message was quite brief, and as Orochimaru was once my teammate it seems rude to keep me waiting any longer.”

The Raikage snorted. “During our last meeting, when we sent word to our villages I had ordered a team to scout Rice Field, as you all know. The team returned after nearly two months. I’d begun to think they would never come back, but Haruna is a skilled shinobi and her team was not led astray. However, she uncovered whispered rumors of Orochimaru in the villages surrounding Otogakure.

“At fisrt, she thought they were just rumors of the fearful living in the shadow of Orochimaru’s village. Nonetheless, she followed them to Otogakure and uncovered evidence that he is still alive. There was a room in his hide away—a lab—and it seems Orochimaru’s research into defying death was more than successful—”

“That isn’t new information,” Tsunade interrupted, her headache worsening as the Raikage continued. She was tired of beating around the bush; she wanted answers now.

“Yes, but there were multiple ways in which he discovered to keep himself from dying, and there was evidence that he had performed one of these techniques prior to his death. Haruna understood little of the documents she uncovered—”

“Did she bring them back to you?” Tsunade said suddenly, half rising from her seat. “They could prove useful to us.”

“Yes, I have them with me. I had hoped that you of all people would be able to decipher his schemes.” The Raikage set several yellowed scrolls on the table before them. “If his research aids us in not only stopping him, but also Madara’s army, then we may see the end of this war yet.”

Tsunade picked up one of the scrolls, unfurling it a portion to read what was written. There were numbers and codes and characters and a diagram of a double-helix. The headache pounded behind her eyes and she rolled the scroll up once more. “I will look these over tonight,” she replied, setting them to one side.

“Correct me if I am wrong,” a scarred member of Suna’s council began carefully, looking across the table to the Raikage in stony consideration, “but what you are saying is that you have called this meeting based on rumors, yes?"

The Raikage narrowed his eyes. “These are not baseless rumors, Osamu-dono. The team I sent followed them as far as they safely could without drawing attention, and the evidence is clear—”

“It does not seem so clear to me. Perhaps you can enlighten me.”

The Raikage stood up sharply, his chair skittering back and falling to the floor with a clap like thunder. “Have you forgotten the way Orochimaru manipulated the Fourth? Have you forgotten the havoc he has wreaked across the shinobi world? If he is still alive, if we are not just up against Madara—”

“If, if, if,” Osamu chided. “There is no evidence that Madara and Orochimaru are working together, and there is hardly any evidence that Orochimaru is back. This is senseless worrying, and this meeting has proved to be a waste of all our time. You should all pack your bags and return to your unguarded villages. You don’t want them to end up like Suna, do you?”

“Are you threatening me?” the Raikage shot back, large hands balled into fists that crackled with chakra.

“I am not the one threatening anyone,” Osamu said, narrowing his eyes. “You forget the real threat to our nations, Raikage.”

“I have forgotten nothing.”

“Gentlemen,” the Mizukage interrupted. “Surely we can discuss the matter without such animosity.”

Osamu sneered, his scarred face twisted in distaste. “You are hardly fit to dictate how this meeting progresses, Mizukage.”

“And what,” the Mizukage began dangerously, “does that mean?”

“Silence!” Tsunade said, slapping a hand onto the table which shook and creaked. “Osamu-dono, you are out of line. This is no way to speak to your allies and I will not have you disrespect Konoha’s guests. Need I remind you that your village has fallen, while the Mizukage’s remains.”

“Suna’s fall was not my failure,” Osamu growled. “As a councilman of Suna, it is my right to express my doubts and advise—”

“Then advise if you have advice to give, but if you cannot do so respectfully then hold your tongue. Or I will remove it,” the Mizukage snapped, lips curling.

“I will not be threatened by a woman!”

“You shall leave this room, Osamu-dono,” Tsunade ordered. “You are no longer welcome at meetings and I will be sure to inform the Kazekage of your manner here today when he returns.”

Osamu rose swiftly, glaring down at Tsunade. “The Kazekage will not return. He has gone to his death and led others to it as well. And you are all fools that will lead the rest of us down the same path.” He turned to his fellow councilmen, inclining his head, before departing.

Tsunade watched the three remaining councilmen from Suna, weighing the pros and cons of allowing them to stay.

“And you three,” Mei said before Tsunade could come to a decision, “will you follow in your fellow councilman’s wake? Or are you smart enough to know when to speak and when to keep your thoughts to yourselves?”

There was a dangerous look in the Mizukage’s eyes, which the three men did not miss. They each nodded once in turn. “We must apologize for Osamu’s behaviour. He is much aggrieved at the loss of our village.”

There was silence for a moment as the four Kage considered them. The Raikage nodded and everyone settled.

“Now then, perhaps we can discuss actions to take?”

Tsunade shifted, guilt settling in her stomach. “I have been thinking, Raikage…”

“As have I,” he said, and understanding passing between them.

“What have you been thinking?” Oonoki cried from his pile of books, looking irritated. “Out with it! Osamu-dono may have been out of line, but he is right about one thing: our villages are unprotected. There is no time to beat around the bush and speak in riddles.”

Tsunade quieted the voice in her head, so like the Kazekage's dull monotone, telling her this was a foolish plan. They had spent months making plans and preparing for the inevitable war; treatises had been made, others were still being discussed, countless missions had been tasked to the shinobi of their villages—but what had they truly accomplished? Were they any safer now than they had been at the start of all this? Konoha was still vulnerable to attack, Suna was in ruins and under enemy control, and the Kazekage might very well be dead. Tsunade could barely see any hope at all, but there was a tiny glimmer if only she could reach it.

She took in a deep breath, steadying herself for what she had to do. “After much consideration, I believe the choice to leave Naruto out of the war was a foolish one. I wish to bring him home.”

Silence met her words. She looked to each person in turn, eyes locking finally with the Raikage’s. He inclined his head. Whatever choice they made now had to be made with great care; it could change the tide of war for good or bad, it could be the deciding factor in their victory or their downfall.

Tsunade closed her eyes for a brief moment and dared to hope.

***

The sky was streaked a deep red against the backdrop of the desert. The sun was slow in leaving for the night, sending a red glow across the desert as San stood at the highest peak above their small village, watching the horizon intently. Below, the people of the Red Gorge were busy preparing for the night, content in the knowledge that their leader watched over them from above.

But San was ill at ease. The wind smelled of death and destruction, as it had for nearly five cycles of the moon. It came from the north, from the great shinobi village of Sunagakure, but there had been no news from the Kazekage since before his departure for the Five Kage Summit. It did not sit well with San, knowing so little of the outside world, but the desert was a hash place and San did not dare leave the tribe to fend for itself—especially not with so many foreigners braving the unforgiving desert of late. For as long as the wind had blown with a fowl scent there had been men and women trekking through the sands of Wind, heading north. Troops of them, sometimes too far off to see and sometimes unnervingly close, with weapons and war paint visible beneath stark, white headdresses. They were mercenaries, renegade shinobi and non-shinobi alike, called to arms by whatever force had tainted the desert winds.

San gripped the long spear held tight in hand, dark eyes narrowing against a sudden gust. Far ahead, too far to be seen yet, travelers were making their way towards the Red Gorge tribe. They smelled of sand and rock, but also of trees and water, and beneath that the tang of blood filled San’s nose: warriors were heading for them and San did not want to wait to find out if the mercenaries had finally come to rain hell upon them.

The long whistle that followed alerted the village below to San’s departure. A shadow fell over the small valley, passing quickly as a large beast carried their leader from the rock’s peak and off into the desert to meet the travelers. With San away, the villagers would defer to Motoko, their leader’s lover and a great warrior in her own right.

The desert sand was still glistening in the setting sun as San raced over dunes on the back of the tiger that had been with San since long before their reign over the Red Gorge tribe. It would not be long before they came upon the travelers and, shinobi or not, most feared the fierceness of the tigers that lived in the canyons of Wind Country.

Up ahead, a great storm approached; a dark mass of sand that shifted unnaturally and seemed to sing of rage the likes of which San had not seen of the desert’s storms before. The beast slowed, turning away from the storm as it stopped a safe distance away, growling low in its throat with teeth barred.

From within the storm, a group emerged. They were nine in number, six of whom were unfamiliar to San. The silhouette of the one leading the group was a familiar one though, and he was flanked by two more that San knew well.

“Peace now, Ku” San murmured to the tiger, patting its side.

Gaara of the Desert and a troop of shinobi made their way towards San as the storm they had hidden within died down, roaring behind them a final time before dwindling to nothing.

“Misfortune has brought you here,” San called in greeting. “The skies have been painted red for many moons and the wind smells of death, Gaara of the Desert. Pray tell, what has befallen your great village that you must seek me out?”

Gaara stopped, standing a safe distance away from San and the beast they rode. The tiger growled, eyes gleaming and muscles tense, but Gaara paid Ku little mind. He stood straight, though he seemed to lean more to one side, and the usual blank expression he wore seemed to ripple with tension. “I come with warnings, San of the Red Rock. But news of Suna can wait until we have made it safely into the canyons of your village."

San eyed the Kazekage carefully. His voice held the tremor of restraint, but there was no clear indication from what he was holding back. San’s eyes slid to the group, looking past Gaara’s siblings and to the unfamiliar shinobi in their party. Three were of Suna, their sun-kissed skin and stoic faces all that San needed to know their loyalties; but the other three were not and San’s eyes narrowed. “I cannot let you enter my village with so many unnamed members of your party. And when have I ever let foreigners pass through my lands? Three in your company are not of the desert and they will not be granted entrance.”

“They are trusted allies of Suna, handpicked by me for this mission. As allies of my village, they are allies of yours.”

“What treaties do my people have with your allies, Gaara of the Desert? We are a humble people that most shinobi do not see fit to speak to, much less make alliances with.” San’s mouth twitched. It was a serious matter to consider letting foreigners into their home, but even under the circumstances they fell easily into their usual routine of matching wit for wit.

“Konoha would be much in your debt if you allowed them passage, though I am not fit to speak on the Hokage’s behalf. However, I am sure my comrades would relay the tale of your assistance to her.”

“We have no interest in shinobi affairs, as you know. Why should I let them pass if all they can offer is Konoha’s gratitude?”

Something flashed in Gaara’s face, a show of emotion San could not recall ever seeing of him. Ku lowered his head, growling once more. “I have no time for games today, San of the Red Rock. Will you grant them entrance to your village? Or are we to speak of the coming war so openly?”

San took in a steadying breath, careful to maintain a neutral expression. “Ill tidings have brought you here, as I feared. Then we must not delay. I shall grant your allies entrance to my village if they prove trustworthy. Though I am inclined to trust you, Gaara of the Desert, I am under no obligation to trust foreign warriors.”

“Then make haste with your test so we may be on our way. We have much to discuss.”

San jumped from Ku’s back, eyeing the foreigners skeptically. Two of the three were much like the warriors of Suna: blank-faced with a dangerous calm about them that told of their skill. The third, however, was unlike any shinobi San had ever faced and San’s eyes lingered on him the longest. His face was open, easier to read than the skies, and his attire eye-catching in the harsh desert. He seemed out of place to San, the weak link in their unhappy band. The Kazekage huffed impatiently, drawing San’s gaze to him.

“Have you eased your worries or will we be all night?” he snapped.

San had never seen the Kazekage so on edge. The stark contrast of the man before San now and the one who'd visited them last was deeply unnerving. “What has befallen the shinobi world to make our liaisons so terse, Gaara of the Desert?”

“As I have said,” Gaara began impatiently, “war is upon us. We have not come to play at your trials and tests, San of the Red Rock.”

“Very well. Then I shall test only one of your number. If he proves trustworthy, I shall grant that the other two are trustworthy by extension of him.” San pointed to the out-of-place shinobi in their ranks. His large eyes seemed to grow wider for a brief moment—San hardly had time to appreciate the surprise that colored his face before his expressive features changed. His brows furrowed and his mouth turned down, but it did not seem to be out of concern for the coming task. “You. You will speak on behalf of your fellows from Konohagakure.”

His comrade behind him, long haired and pale eyed, closed his eyes in something like agony.

“I shall do my utmost best to prove that I and my comrades are worthy of your trust!” His voice seemed to echo across the land, louder than San had expected it to be and full of confidence. He shared a look with the Kazekage and San had difficulty in hiding the surprise that flitted across their face at the pleased look evident in Gaara’s eyes. Perhaps San had misjudged this man—after all, the Kazekage had handpicked him for their errand; perhaps there was more to him than there appeared to be.

It was too late, though. San had already chosen and Gaara’s patience had already been tested enough that day.

The many tests the Red Gorge tribe inflicted upon travelers seeking their hospitality flitted through San’s mind. Most were not designed for shinobi, and those that were fit for warriors would take up too much of their time. San’s dark eyes landed on Ku, still watching the Kazekage warily, eyes gleaming in the fading sunlight.

“What is your name, Konoha warrior?” San asked, approaching Ku.

“I am Konoha’s Beautiful Blue Beast, Rock Lee!”

Again, his voice echoed across the flat desert. “Then it seems only fitting that you, Blue Beast, face off with my beast, Ku.”

San turned, hoping to see fear flash across his face, but was sorely disappointed when all they could read was confusion. “You wish me to fight him?”

“No. I wish for you to stand before him and allow him to judge you."

The Blue Beast grinned, relief shining in his face. “That does not seem too difficult!"

And it was nothing like San had ever seen. No one, including Gaara of the Desert, had ever approached Ku so readily. The Blue Beast marched up to the great tiger three times the man's size and with his teeth still bared, and blocked Ku’s view of the Kazekage entirely. He stood before San’s tiger without fear or doubt, startling him so thoroughly that it took Ku a moment to recognize what was happening. The tiger’s head tilted to one side, large nose twitching as it sniffed the brazen shinobi. The Blue Beast did not move an inch, even when Ku opened his jowls wide to show his many sharp teeth or when he growled low in his throat. The first thing the Red Gorge tribesmen had all been taught as children was to never show fear in the face of the great tigers, the true rulers of the desert’s mountains and valleys.

“If there is any fear in your heart the tiger will see it and they will not suffer you to live for only the bravest are allowed to make the desert their home,” the elders had imparted to each new generation.

San watched, fascinated, as Ku stood to his full height and roared in the Blue Beast’s face, spit flying and hot breath mussing his hair. Ku huffed, drawing closer to the unflinching shinobi, teeth barred for a mere moment before Ku sank low to the ground and rolled over, tail swishing and the loud purring of his pleasure vibrating in his chest. There had never been and never would be again a person so readily accepted by Ku, save San. The Blue Beast reached out, laughing freely, and rubbed Ku’s revealed underside.

“Does this mean that I am trustworthy?” he asked, perhaps the barest hint of cheek in his tone, but it was overshadowed by the joy of victory ringing in his laughter.

A moment of silence followed his words, interrupted only by the sound of Ku’s happy purring. San looked from the Blue Beast to the Kazekage. Gaara of the Desert was appraising Lee as much as the rest of their company, though his expression was impassive San could see that the Kazekage had had no doubts about the Blue Beast's capabilities. San, for their part, knew that they had since thrown aside all pretense of stoicism and looked as surprised as the Kazekage’s siblings and nearly every other member of their company. The pale-eyed Konoha shinobi stood shaking his head, but he was smiling barely behind his apparent exasperation.

“Blue Beast, you are not from the desert, yet you have proven yourself to the desert’s King. Few have ever received such high regard from the great tigers of this land. If Konohagakure ever has need of the Red Gorge tribe, then I shall see to it that aid is given. This tale will be told to every tribe in these lands, and your name will not be quickly forgotten, Konoha’s Beautiful Blue Beast.

“Come, we will make haste to my home. Food and drink will be made ready, and we will tell you the legends of our lands for a time before we talk of war. A high honor must be paid to you, Beautiful Blue Beast, and so we will celebrate this new friendship with Konohagakure and toast to your mettle.”

Konoha's Beautiful Blue Beast was as red as the sunset had been and his smile bright in the near darkness. “I—but I have done nothing to warrant—”

“Lee,” the Kazekage interrupted, lowly, “it is traditional to celebrate such an occasion. We will not ignore your success in this, despite the times. We will follow you, San of the Red Rock. I thank you for your hospitality.”

“Though misfortune has brought you to us it is good to see you again, Kazekage. I trust we do not have time for further formalities. Let us away to my village.” San whistled and Ku rolled suddenly to his feet, kicking sand everywhere. “I will go on ahead to alert my people of your arrival. Do not run as though death is hot at your heels, my friends. There is time yet to discuss matters of war. You need not push yourselves to run so fast as the kings of the desert.”

San pressed their heels into Ku’s sides and they darted off into the night, the Kazekage’s company just behind them and the Blue Beast at their side moving faster than any man San had ever seen.

***

The south of Tea Country was far enough away from the presence of shinobi that Zetsu did not fear discovery—though, if he were being quite frank, he knew he could overwhelm even an entire army of ninja without risk to his person. However, discovery would be inconvenient and he did not appreciate being inconvenienced when it came right down to it.

So he set up his roots in Tea Country, in the south, far away from the port cities and the quaint villages that dotted the coast.

His tasks were not within Tea Country and so he set his roots growing.

The wonderful thing about the earth, about trees and plants and flowers was that they were all connected. No matter how far away his objective was he would reach it; no matter what obstacles might lie in his path he would overcome them. He was not bound by the laws of human nature and so he had little regard for it. Even Madara’s goal was beyond the scope of his concern. He worked on behalf of Madara simply for the thrill of ending human life.

It just so happened that Madara’s plans and his desires were one in the same, at least for the time being. If there came a time when their interests were no longer mutual, then Zetsu would abandon Madara’s mission. In the meantime, he would see the mission through.

Far from his hideout in Tea Country, past the bushels of tea leaves being exported and the port cities where ships docked, beyond the boarder where Tea and Fire met, a white shoot sprouted in the forests nearest Konoha; and farther north still, past the small village of Yugakure and the village of Shimogakure, into the lands of Lightning, just past the capitol and outside of Kumo another lone sprout emerged from the earth. Flowers blossomed releasing spores that floated on the gentlest of breezes, floating into the villages, tiny eyes that took in everything.

In Konoha, standing upon the wall’s battlements, a hard faced Konoha shinobi watched for signs of danger, oblivious to the invisible eyes that watched him. He was not alone on the wall—his fellows from Konoha stood watch as well, along with the many shinobi of Suna. Though many capable shinobi lined the walls of Konoha, this man was the one Zetsu wanted. The spores landed on him, collecting in his hair and on his clothes. The man sneezed, but it did him little good. He would be dead by nightfall and then Zetsu would take his place as Captain of the Watch.

It was the same in Kumo: Zetsu watched in secret, seeking out the perfect person to kill and replace. Eventually he found him—the Captain of the Watch was a man twice his size with long loced white hair, deep brown skin, and a patch over one eye. The man’s eye narrowed, sensing something, but still his keen eye could not see well enough to uncover the tiny spores fluttering towards him on the breeze.

There was little else for Zetsu to do but wait once the spores had settled. They would drain their hosts’ chakra supplies, striking them down slowly but effectively, leaving room for Zetsu to infiltrate the villages disguised as their own.

Back in Tea Country, he smiled slowly, glorying in the feel of his victory. The great nations would fall soon; it was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Higen's weapon.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kusarigama)
> 
> [Tonboko's weapon. ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonbokiri) I chose Tonboko's name to go with her weapon.
> 
> Please look at [this adorable art](https://brianadoesotherjunk.tumblr.com/post/161637166366/i-cant-art-but-you-guys-should-read-alliance) tumblr user brianadoesotherjunk made based on the scene where San tests Lee to prove he is trustworthy.


	8. Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two shinobi villages were never meant to live as one. Living so closely together with so much bad blood in their not-so-distant past can only lead to resentment. With Konoha's resources strained as the village tries to support Suna's and its own people during a time of war, tensions begin to rise. And when the Hokage and Kazekage find themselves at odds the alliance and the outcome of the war are put at stake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been kind of a while since the last time I updated. Kind of rushed the editing on this chapter, but I've already gone over it a million times so at this point it's just adjusting minor things. Thanks to everyone who's left kudos, bookmarked, and especially commented! I cannot express how important hearing feedback is for writers. This is the first fic I've published in years, and I've spent so much time working on it so it's a little disheartening when I don't get any sort of feedback. I'm hoping that people are actually enjoying this and coming back to read the updates. I know that it's kind of rough with me updating so sporadically, but one of my goals for the new year is to actually finish editing this and finish posting. I probably won't post again for a while because KatsuCon is coming up, but maybe just before or right after I'll be able to update. The next chapter is going to need a lot more TLC in the editing room before I feel it's ready. Finally hitting those chapters that haven't been written for over two or more years, which means they have been edited far far less (if at all). As I am a perfectionist, I hope people don't mind the wait. Anyways, thanks for reading!

The Red Gorge tribe had taken the Kazekage and his teammates in with open arms thanks to Lee. It had been nine days of celebrating Lee’s accomplishment; nine days wherein they spoke of war; nine days of Gaara meeting not only with San but the many other tribal leaders of Wind; and nine days of much needed rest and healing. Gaara had missed the desert a great deal and a part of him wished to stay longer, but his heart was heavy with anxiety and his mind haunted by the memories of Yua. 

Motoko was standing watch above the village when Gaara appeared in a whirlwind of sand behind her. She glanced at him only long enough to see who it was. “Kazekage-sama,” she said stiffly. 

They had never gotten along and probably never would, yet Motoko was respectful nonetheless. That respect was always tinged with disdain, but Gaara had never been concerned with formalities, and cared little whether or not she deferred to his rank. Gaara preferred her honest, barely hidden contempt to the feigned support from his council; he could trust Motoko because she did not hide what she thought of him. In fact, she could call him all manner of things to his face and he would not bat an eye nor change his view of her. She did not like him and he did not begrudge her this. After all, Motoko had lived in Suna in her youth and her memory of him was of the monster he’d been all those years ago. 

“Motoko,” he replied. “I was not aware there was a hunt today.” 

“There isn’t. San sensed something.” 

Gaara didn’t respond, extending his senses out across the sand. “How long ago did San leave?” 

“An hour.” 

“You should ease your mind. San is returning. There seems to be a group following them.” 

“Enemies?” 

He shook his head. “No. They are of Suna.” His sand swirled at his feet. Motoko seemed to shiver, but Gaara ignored it. “I will go meet them.” In the next moment he was gone, his sand transporting him swiftly across the sandy dunes. He materialized some fifty yards away from the group that followed San. Baki was at the front, walking next to the great tiger that San rode, and just behind them was a group of shinobi and five men decked in armor customary of the capitol’s guard. At the center of this group were two large wooden boxes, each carried by four different shinobi: it was the Daimyo’s norimono and his daughter’s. 

“Kazekage-sama?” Baki called, stopping suddenly. The shinobi with him straightened and the capitol guards shifted anxiously. There was the gentle sound of wood being slid against wood and the Daimyo’s pale face peered out from within his box.

“Baki,” Gaara said in return. “How has the journey been?” 

“It has been fair, Kazekage-sama. The desert has been kind to us.” 

“And you have come across no enemies?” 

“A band of renegades just past the Scorpion Dunes. We lost one of our number, but were able to overwhelm them with the help of the tribes there. The Red Scorpion tribe and the Black Scorpion tribe send their regards.” 

“I have spoken with their leaders,” Gaara responded. “They did not inform me you had traveled past them so recently.” 

“It was not so recent, Kazekage-sama,” Baki corrected respectfully. “I am sure it slipped their minds.” 

“Perhaps, but it would have been nice to have been informed that you were well. I see you have the Daimyo in your company.” Baki snorted, glancing back a the man in question, making no effort to mask his irritation. 

“Yes,” he said. Gaara could hear the unspoken _‘unfortunately’_ that rang in Baki’s tone. “It took some convincing, but the Daimyo graciously accepted our assistance.” 

“How prudent of him. Did he think his own guards would be a match for Madara’s forces?” 

“Ha!” the Daimyo cried from his palanquin, face reddening and his cheeks puffed up. “As if you and yours are a match for them! I should think not with how your village fell.” 

“Imagine what Madara could do then to you and yours,” Gaara said idly. 

“I’ll have your head for such insolence!” The Daimyo shook his fist at Gaara, shaking the norimono with the gesture. 

“Then I can rest easy. Few have ever made it past my sand and they are not yours to command. Unless, you think you can take me,” Gaara added as an afterthought. 

A few of the shinobi in Baki’s company seemed to be fighting back the urge to laugh. Gaara was grateful that Suna’s shinobi were so tactful, but San did not show such grace. Their laugh rent the calm desert air, a short mocking bark. San’s lip had curled and they were staring at the Kaze Daimyo, the open hatred in their dark complexion intentionally unmasked. 

“I should like to see such a thing,” San remarked. “Such a little man! And your pale face and thin skin—ha! You are not fit for the desert, let alone fit to fight Gaara of the Desert, her greatest son.” 

“You filthy little barbarian!” the Daimyo shouted. 

San was as quick as the tiger they rode. The Daimyo reeled back, falling into the door of his palanquin causing it to shake. “You would do well, _Daimyo_ , to remember that I am also a great warrior and that _barbarians_ such as myself are not governed by your laws. I would kill you where you sit now would it not upset my good friend. Be grateful for his presence: the Kazekage is all that keeps you from death.” 

The five spears pointed at San shook unsteadily in the capitol guards' hands. The Red Gorge did not pick its leaders with ease and San’s name was known throughout the deserts of Wind for they were the only non-shinobi warrior to ever obtain a title. San of the Red Rock was infamous both in name and in skill; and their greatest accomplishment was not the mercy they graced their enemies with. 

“Y-you—you—I could—” the Daimyo blustered, but he was no more eloquent in his fear than he was in his anger. 

San ignored him, returning to Ku’s side. “I have changed my mind, Baki of Suna. If you wish to rest, then you may do so within my village, but the Daimyo and his guard are no longer welcome.” 

“My Lord,” a soft voice spoke from the other palanquin. The little window opened only slightly and the sliver of a pale face could be seen from within, “you are weary and not yourself. Please, San of the Red Rock, forgive my father his trespasses. He does not know what he is saying.” 

The Kaze Daimyo’s anger did not fade, but he seemed to take his daughter’s words in stride. “My sweet, precious girl. This is not a matter for you to concern yourself with.” His voice was suddenly a purr, simpering and oily. San bared their teeth, sharing a look with Gaara. 

“You speak more sense than your father,” San remarked. “You are permitted to enter my village, but only you. Your father has never been and never will be welcomed within the tribes of the desert, and he should remember that well. When San of the Red Rock makes such a declaration, all others take heed.” 

The Daimyo snorted. “I do not fear you, child of the desert. You are not greater than me just because you carry a spear and ride a grizzly beast.” 

“That is enough,” Gaara said, stepping forward to intervene. “The sun is hot and these lands are no safer now than they were yesterday. If my people are welcome in your village, then we should return to the Red Gorge. My team and I will no longer burden you with more mouths to feed, San of the Red Rock.” 

“You are leaving?” 

“We must return to Konoha as soon as possible. Tomorrow, we will leave.” 

San nodded, mounting Ku. “Baki of Suna, if you and your men are in need of rest come to the Red Gorge. We have food and water to replenish your supplies and, though our beds may not be as luxurious as the Daimyo surely boasts in his home, there are plenty to rest your travel-worn bodies.” 

Baki bowed. “Thank you, San of the Red Rock. We will follow you.” 

The Daimyo made a chocked sound. “And leave me here in the desert?! Is this how you treat the ruler of your country!?” 

“You will come only as far as you are welcome. Your men surely know how to erect a tent, Kaze Daimyo.” 

The Daimyo narrowed his eyes, but his gaze was on Gaara and not Baki. “It seems you have taught your people poorly, Kazekage. Your father was not so foolish.” 

“My father tried to have me killed six times,” Gaara said. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t see eye to eye with you on my father’s ways.” 

The wooden door to the Daimyo’s norimono slammed shut with a loud clack. Gaara surveyed the box for a moment, then returned his attention to Baki and San. “I will go on ahead and alert Motoko of your return. She was worried.” 

San snorted. “She always worries when you are about, Gaara of the Desert.” 

He shook his head. “She always worries when you are away.” 

They shared what for Gaara counted as a smile, then his sand enveloped him and he was gone. 

***

The hot water in her flat had gone cold only two minutes after she'd gotten into the shower. 

“Fucking foreigners,” Yuugao cursed as she turned the water off. The week had only just begun, but already she'd been unable to shower on three different occasions due to the lack of warm water. She grabbed a towel, dabbing quickly at her wet skin before tossing it aside in a huff. She threw her partially wet hair up in a sloppy bun, water splashing from the wet ends as she did so. 

Complaining about the situation would do no good, though. They simply didn't have the resources to accommodate another shinobi village. Suna's survivors numbered a couple thousand more than Konoha could stand to care for, even under normal circumstances as far as Yuugao was concerned. Hot water wasn't the only scarce commodity within the village now: the villages food supplies were running low, and with trade a dangerous option, people were being forced to ration for the sake of the village. Tension had set in not long after the Kazekage's departure, his people unsettled by his absence, and it worsened with each passing day as their resources stretched thinner and thinner.

But Yuugao and the other Konoha shinobi had to maintain a professional manner. They weren't allowed to let their emotions colour their judgment. She and her comrades had to work with Suna's shinobi for the betterment of the shinobi world, after all. It would not be prudent to show such distaste for Konoha's guests. 

It was much easier said than done when she was forced to come face-to-face with the shinobi responsible for the death of her lover. It had been roughly two months since the last time she'd seen Baki—she hoped he had died on his missiony—but even as the days passed the anger she'd felt upon seeing him again after so many years had not settled. Not even the tasks that had been given to her by the council and Hokage could distract her from her lust for vengeance. 

Baki had known it. His hard, expressionless eyes had looked long and hard at her on their last encounter; he had taken her in, he had sized her up, and he had known what was in her heart. It infuriated her the way he'd turned his gaze away from her so quickly after that, as though she were no more a threat to him than a tiny insect. She could not stand to be deemed so insignificant by the man who'd killed Hayate. 

She would have her revenge, even if it killed her. 

_After the war,_ she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. _After this is over, I will send him to the Afterlife._ There was little point in killing someone if he might only come back, after all; moreover she still had a duty to her village and Hokage.

She could see her mission through to completion, and with any luck, she would be allowed her vengeance at the end of it all. 

***

Kiba spotted Chouji's formidable figure the moment he arrived at the training grounds, Akamaru hot on his heels. As far as he knew, Chouji was one of the only other shinobi of the Rookie Nine who hadn't been assigned a mission yet: Shino and Hinata had left on their own missions, Shikamaru and Ino were gone, and Sakura and Sai had also been sent off. Even Neji's team had all been given out high ranking assignments. 

There was a part of Kiba that was bitter at being overlooked, but an even greater part of him was grateful to stay in the village. 

“Chouji!” he called, coming up to greet his comrade. Chouji looked up from his contemplation of—Kiba missed it, as Chouji hastily stuffed whatever it was back in his weapons pouch. He smiled at Kiba, but it was nothing like the easy smiles of before. Kiba stifled a sigh. 

“Hi,” Chouji offered in return. 

“Whatcha ya up to?” Kiba asked, taking a seat on the upturned log next to Chouji. Akamaru flopped down beside him gracelessly, dust rising around him and settling in his fur. Kiba rolled his eyes, ruffling Akamaru's dusty coat.

Chouji shrugged. “Just thinking.” 

Kiba gave him a sidelong look, raising an eyebrow. “Thinkin'? And here I thought you were training.” 

“I was going to,” he said reluctantly. “I just—I don't know.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Kiba said seriously. “It's the war.” 

Chouji nodded, then shook his head. “No, I—sort of.” 

“Sort of?” He frowned, waiting for Chouji to elaborate. When Chouji remained quiet, he poked him in his side. “Hey, what is it?”

“Ino.” 

“Yeah?” Kiba asked, grinning. “Well, that's not so bad then, is it?” 

Chouji shook his head. “I just—have this feeling.” 

Kiba let out a huff. “Don't listen to it, man. You do that and you'll never stop thinking. You get caught up in the 'what-ifs' and you're gonna wind up on the wrong end of a kunai.” 

“Yeah, I—” Chouji gave a bitter laugh. “If I ever even see action. I doubt the Hokage's gonna send me on a mission.” 

“What do you mean? Of course you've got a mission! It's to stay here and defend the village. You don't think she's gonna send every single ninja here out on a dangerous quest do you? Some of us have to stay here to man the fort, otherwise who knows what'll happen!” 

“I-I guess.” Chouji sighed. “I'd rather just not fight at all.”

“Why not?” 

Chouji shook his head. “It's nothing. I just—I just want this war to be over so Ino can come home. And Shikamaru.” 

Kiba nodded. “Yeah, me too. It's weird, isn't it? I can't remember a time when I wasn't with Hinata and Shino. They're just—they're everything and now they're just...gone. Like that.” 

“Like that,” Chouji agreed quietly. 

“But hey,” Kiba said, slapping Chouji on the back, “they'll be home soon. I know they will. We'll see them all again, and it'll be like they weren't ever gone!” 

“How do you know?” 

Kiba shrugged. “Just a feeling, I guess. And hey, at least you're not the only one here, right? I'm still here. And this late in the game I don't think I'm gonna get—”

The sound of heavy paws hitting the grass stopped Kiba mid-sentence. He turned to see his sister, Hana, and her three ninken approaching. It was all Kiba could do to keep himself from groaning. 

“Kiba, the Hokage wants to see us.” 

There was a moment of silence as Kiba stared at his sister, all the bitterness chased away by fear. 

“Guess I'm the only one left now,” Chouji said softly. Kiba tore his gaze from his sister, a desperate look on his face as he stared at Chouji. Kiba didn't know what to say, his chest felt tight and his heart was beating fast. All he could think was _I don't want to go_. 

He rose to his feet, numb to everything around him. There was no turning back for him now. The war had finally claimed him. 

***

The gates of Konoha opened noisily, creaking from disuse. 

Their unending mission was finally over. They were back in the relative safety and comfort of Konoha. Gaara’s eyes flicked to the hospital in the distance, then to Hokage Tower. He would speak with the Hokage first and then make his way to the hospital for care. He was dead on his feet and each step he took was a shock of agony to his body, but he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth through the pain, and walked on. 

“Kazekage-sama!” several of his people cried in surprise and relief as he walked down the main road through the village. 

He nodded in response to each exclamation, but there was no time to speak with them. His team followed behind him, his siblings impossibly close as they had been since their reunion outside of Suna. Try as he might to keep his worsening condition from them, it had been to no avail. But they had done nothing more than watch over him a bit more doggedly and Temari was considerably more demanding when she told him to rest. Thankfully, they had not pressed him more than that, and did their best not to draw attention to his condition—this was, of course, useless, as none in their party was so stupid or so unobservant as to miss the signs of his worsening state. 

Hokage Tower was oddly silent when they arrived. Gaara had expected it to be teeming with activity, with shinobi running reports back and forth, with others being sent out on missions, and still others preparing all manner of things for the coming war. The silence was loud and oppressive in Gaara’s mind, and the sound of his and his teammates' footfalls was an ominous pattering in the quiet corridors. 

“Kazekage-sama?” a young Konoha kunoichi called from behind their company. They turned as one, parting for Gaara. “You—you’re back! Oh, thank goodness! We were becoming worried.” 

Gaara appraised her and she seemed to shrink beneath his gaze. He had little time for celebrating their return and even less time for idle chitchat. “I must speak with the Hokage—”

“Oh, but she’s in a meeting with the other Kage and our councils.” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes. “In a meeting? Why didn’t they wait for me to return?” 

“I—”

But Gaara didn’t give her time to answer. He turned sharply and began a swift trek to the Hokage’s office. 

“She’s not in her office!” the young woman said, stopping Gaara in his tracks. 

“Where is the meeting being held?” he asked in a low voice, more command than question.

“It—it’s being held in the secondary council room. T-two doors down from her office.” 

Gaara didn’t offer his thanks, heading promptly down the corridor and leaving his team in his wake. His heart was a steady rhythm in his chest, beating out a mantra to keep him calm: _con-trol, con-trol, con-trol_... Tsunade would only call a meeting if the situation was dire, and for the other Kage to meet in Konoha meant that it must truly be so. He had missed much during his mission, and perhaps in his absence things had worsened to the point that they would be marching to war within the week. He was not ready for that; if he were to go to war now then he would not come back. He would need to make preparations in the event of his death—naming a successor would be top priority so that Suna would not go without rule for as long as it had the last time its Kazekage had died. Temari was the obvious choice, he thought as his mind raced. 

His darkening thoughts came to a screeching halt as the doors to the secondary council room opened. 

“I will return to Kumo immediately and send word to Naruto and Bee. I am sure they will both be happy to be off the island,” the Raikage was saying to Tsunade. Behind them the Mizukage and the Tsuchikage followed, looking pensive. 

But Gaara’s attention was rooted to Tsunade, the beating of his heart no longer the calm controlled pace he had maintained in his anxiety. 

“What convenient timing, Hokage, that I was away for this meeting,” he intoned, his voice quietly furious. The four Kage turned to him, Tsunade’s eyes wide for a brief moment before she straightened to her full height and squared her jaw. 

“Kazekage,” she replied. “A decision had to be made and, unfortunately, we were pressed for time. Had we known you would be returning—”

“The decision to bring Naruto into this war is not yours alone to make.” 

“And I did not make it alone! Your title has gone to your head, Kazekage. You think you are wise beyond your years, but you are not. This was Konoha’s decision, not yours, and it was supported in full by the other Kage, including the councils of both our villages. If you have a problem with it, then write a complaint. Maybe I’ll get to it when I have time for your childish antics.” 

She stormed past Gaara, her sandals clacking angrily against the wood floors of the tower. Gaara glared fiercely at the floor, clenching and unclenching his fists, digging blunt nails into his palms and trying to keep the sand in his gourd from making so much as a sound. He was not so furious that he could not keep a lid on his anger, but there was no ignoring it either. The other Kage did not speak, all watching him carefully. Suna’s council members suddenly pushed forward, narrow-eyed and puffed up. 

“Kazekage!” Hayato’s expression was the simpering look of a man faced with no other option but to befriend his enemy. He spread his arms wide, still ruddy-faced, and forced a smile. “We are so relieved to have you back, Kazekage.” 

Gaara could almost see the plans in Hayato’s mind falling apart at his return. He turned, glancing once over his shoulder. “You will report to me this evening at the hospital, Hayato. I wish to know what was discussed at this meeting.” 

He trusted Hayato to tell him the truth about as much as he trusted Lee to go straight home and rest, but he had no desire to speak with Tsunade and his trust in her had taken a beating. With no one at the unforeseen meeting that he could count on, he had to rely on his ability to read people and decipher what he could from whatever Hayato might report to him. 

With his temper simmering just below the boiling point and his body screaming, he made his way back to his teammates. 

“You’re dismissed,” he said to the team. “Temari, Kankurou, let’s go.” 

***

The rain came down in sheets, heavier than it had been in months. 

Hei pulled his cloak up over his head, double checked his satchel and grabbed his parasol before heading outside to meet his teammates. Aki and Saki were waiting for him under the awning just beneath the council building. 

Things had finally been set in motion between Tanigakure and the great villages, which meant it was time for Amegakure to follow up on its promises. They'd done their best to divvy out the assignments , but they were already stretched so thin that the number of shinobi they could send to the boarders for patrol was paltry at best given just how much ground they had to cover for an effective patrol. Six boarder divisions had been set up, made up of the majority of Ame's shinobi. Between the teams that had been sent to the non-shinobi villages and the six boarder patrols, Ame could barely maintain a guard of its own. 

The rest of his boarder patrol division were waiting at the gates by the time Hei and his teammates arrived. They were only one-hundred and fifty in number. 

Hei surveyed his soaking comrades, a lump in his throat. This was the legacy of Amegakure. One-hundred and fifty shinobi off to defend the southern boarder of their country, leaving only two hundred capable ninja in the village to fight. If they were lucky, their village would survive the war long enough to benefit from the treaty with Konoha and Suna. 

He'd had to admire Shikamaru for his skill at navigating the Ame council. They were in a deadlock: while Hei couldn't deny that the great nations needed them, in the end Ame still needed the great nations more. Especially after the loss of their Kage. What Konoha and Suna offered would ensure that Ame grew into a strong, prosperous nation after the war, but it would leave them dependent on Leaf and Sand for many years. Hei was absolutely positive that Shikamaru had known exactly what he was doing every step of the way, no matter what his grandfather said. 

“Does everyone have everything?” he asked, looking around at his gathered comrades. 

There was a collective murmur of assent, like the dull sound of rain hitting a window. Not a single person present was looking forward to this mission. Hei sighed. “All right,” he said. “Let's go.” 

***

Lee had only been home for ten minutes when the summons came. He stared in confusion at the waiting shinobi outside his flat, opening and closing his mouth. 

“I have only just returned home!” he said finally. 

“The Hokage is sorry for the inconvenience, but she has requested Team Gai's presence in her office immediately.” 

Lee sighed. “Excuse me,” he side, inclining his head in apology. “I understand.” He closed the door to his flat, locked it behind him, and followed after the ninja who'd come to retrieve him in silence. He was exhausted, more than he'd thought he'd be after such a mission. Reconnaissance was hardly a physically demanding job, after all, but it had certainly proved to be an emotionally taxing one. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he went over the events of the past month. It had been far too long, especially given the Kazekage's condition and the circumstances surrounding the mission. Life had seemed to stand still out in the desert but, now that he was back in Konoha, it was clear that the war had carried on without them. 

By the time they reached Hokage Tower, Lee's feet were dragging. He was almost grateful to be without his weights, which he'd left abandoned in the desert much like his last pair which were still somewhere in the treetops of Fire. He had more weights at home, of course, but they were the next weight class up which meant he'd need to begin training if he had any hope of maintaining his usual speed while wearing them. 

“Wait here. The Hokage will be ready shortly,” the man who'd escorted him said, leaving Lee to his own musings. 

“Lee!” Gai-sensei's loud voice echoed from the end of the hall a moment later. Lee turned around, excitement chasing away some of the exhaustion in him. 

“Gai-sensei!” he exclaimed with much less vigor than usual though he did his best. 

“Lee!” Gai-sensei embraced him in a bone crushing hug that Lee returned gratefully. “I am relieved to see you are safely back in the village! Neji has just been telling me about your mission!” 

Behind Gai-sensei, Neji stood, looking no less tired than Lee felt. His skin was red and peeling from the desert, and though he had been able to rest his eyes during their stay with the Red Gorge tribe, Neji squinted back at Lee as though the light were too much for him.

Beside Neji, Kakashi leaned against a wall, his hands shoved in his pockets and his one visible eye closed. 

It had been a long mission, indeed. 

“It was very successful,” Lee said optimistically, though the statement rang false in his ears. What had they really gained by venturing to Suna? The Kazekage's condition had worsened, Neji had compromised his own health several times, and all of them were no less worried for the knowledge they now possessed. The only thing that had felt like a proper success during the mission was that Lee had managed to impress the many tribes of Wind, thus ensuring that aid would be given to them should they need it. 

But even that weighed heavily on his mind. How many people would have to lay down their lives for the sake of this war? He shook himself; he should not be so hopeless. They had all survived the mission, they had uncovered information, and they had gained new allies. It was an unprecedented victory during such dark times, after all. But he did not feel like himself and had not since their second day with the people of the Red Gorge tribe. He needed a long sleep in his own bed, a good meal, and a vigorous workout to revitalize him. 

“Lee,” Gai-sensei said seriously, looking into his face, “what is the matter?” 

Lee shook his head, smiling tiredly up at his sensei. “It is nothing, Gai-sensei! I am just tired from the mission. It was very long and I was hoping to rest, but...” He glanced back at the Hoakge's door, brow furrowed. “Do you know why the Hokage has called us here?” 

“No,” Kakashi-sensei said, pushing himself from the wall. “But I have a feeling it's about Naruto.” 

Lee swallowed, his stomach knotting. “Naruto-kun?”

The door to the Hokage's office opened, Kiba's voice filling the hall as he exited followed by his mother and sister, their ninken at their heels. “—long mission.” 

“Twenty-four hours is plenty of time to prepare, Kiba,” Tsume said. 

“Yeah? How do you—oi! Lee! Neji! You guys are back? When did you get here?” 

Lee smiled tiredly. “A half hour ago, I believe.” 

“Man, what are you guys doing up here? You don't need to report or anything do you?” 

Lee shook his head. “No. I believe that the Kazekage will be writing up a report. Have you been assigned a mission?” 

Kiba huffed. “Yeah. A long one too. I can't really talk about it—you know, in case it gets out and upsets people or something.” He shrugged.

“Kiba!” Tsume barked, now at the other end of the hallway, waiting. 

“Oh, damn. I gotta go. I'll see you guys later—oh, if you're not busy tonight, maybe we could go get something to eat with Chouji. He was lookin' kinda down—misses Ino for some ungodly reason.” 

Neji shook his head. “I do not think we will be free,” was all he said, brushing past Lee and heading into the Hokage's office after Gai-sensei and Kakashi-sensei. 

“Oh. Well...if you are,” Kiba said, giving another shrug. “Just figured with the war and all—”

“Kiba!!” 

“Shit,” he said, glancing back at his mother. “I better go. See ya later!” 

Lee gave a halfhearted wave, watching Kiba and Akamaru as they raced down the hall. He'd like very much to go out with his friends, especially if Chouji needed cheering up, but Neji was right: they didn't have time for anything as trivial as dinner with friends.

Sighing, he followed after the others, closing the door to the Hokage's office behind him. 

The Hokage was leaning against the window with her hand pressed to her temple. She seemed to sag before Lee's very eyes, the wrinkles on her forehead pronounced as she scrunched her face. Lee felt a pang of sympathy for her. After spending so much time with the Kazekage in the desert, he understood better how taxing being a Kage truly was. 

“As most of you are aware,” she said, not turning to look at them. “There was a meeting here between myself, the Raikage, Tsuchikage, and Mizukage. News has reached us that Orochimaru may still be alive.” She took a deep, steadying breath, the moment of silence allowing the gathered shinobi a chance to take in this new bit of information. “If this is true—and all evidence suggests it is, considering the nature of our enemies—I am absolutely certain he is working with Madara. 

“Which is why, after much consideration, I have decided that it would be best to bring Naruto home.” 

Lee had known it was coming, but hearing it out loud did not make it easier to digest. It didn't make any sense to him. Of course he'd heard the story of how Naruto had saved them all from Pein—he'd heard it countless times from countless different people—but he did not understand how one man could stop an entire war. Was everything they'd done already really so useless? 

When Tsunade looked at them finally, her eyes seemed dim to him, as though her Will of Fire had gone out. 

“I am sorry to have to do this, Kakashi. Neji. Lee. I know you have just returned from your mission, but I need you and Gai to head to Kumo. You will rendezvous with several Kumo shinobi near Shimogakure at the end of next week. You may take the next week to rest, but I want you prepared to leave no later than eight days from now. Remember: time is not on our side.

“Gai, you've been to the island before so I want you in charge of this mission. Yamato and Iruka will also be returning with you, so be prepared to fill them in on everything that's happened, but please do so discreetly. I don't want Naruto charging off and getting himself hurt.” 

Gai-sensei bowed. “I understand, Hokage-sama. Thank you for entrusting this mission to us.” 

“Dismissed.” 

They left the Hokage's office in silence, Lee's head buzzing. He was tired and hungry and, quite frankly, he didn't want to think about this upcoming mission. He was tempted to ask Neji what his thoughts were on the matter, but thought better of it.  
In the end, his opinion didn't matter.

***

“Kazekage,” Tsunade said, standing in the hospital door, her face scrunched in irritation. 

“Hokage,” Gaara replied evenly. He shot a look to his siblings. They stared back at him defiantly, unwilling to be dismissed, but he would not relent. Finally, Kankurou blinked, grabbed Temari and left, sweeping past the Hokage without a word. 

“You overdid it on your mission.” 

“I did what was necessary on my mission.” 

The tension was thick between them as they stared each other down. By the time Tsunade finally stopped balancing between the threshold of Gaara’s hospital room and the hall the tension between them had reached its limit. She crossed to a seat near the window, sandals clacking noisily as she went and her gaze set on the chair. She dropped heavily into it, her shoulders sagging, but she looked no less irritated. There was just the added weight of exhaustion, making her age come into stark relief. 

“Then you know I did what was necessary.” 

“You did the exact opposite. You are just too bullheaded to see that.” 

Tsunade clenched her fists, glaring straight ahead at the wall as though she could burn a hole through it. “You are not the leader of this village; you are not Naruto’s keeper. Whatever you think you know about him is severely lacking, Kazekage.” She spat the word, turning her gaze upon him. But the sight of him seemed to send her into a fury because she ripped her gaze away, suddenly on her feet, glaring out the window. “He’s grown a great deal since the last time you met with him.” 

Gaara regarded her coolly, waiting patiently for her to continue. She was determined to convince him of this decision; foolhardy in her belief and stubborn enough that he knew his words would be wasted. 

“He saved this village from Pein. He’s the strongest shinobi this village has, but you want me to keep him sequestered on an island, oblivious to the dangers going on here. He’s our most valuable weapon in this war. It’s time that his skills be utilized.” 

Gaara took in a deep breath. “You have truly lost all hope if you see Naruto as the lone savior of this world. He is one person—a rash individual who would sooner die to bring Uchiha Sasuke home than become Hokage—”

“How dare you?!” Tsunade shouted, whirling around sharply.

“I dare because I see it. You are too blind to your doubt and your love of him to see what is right before you. You have an entire village of capable shinobi at your command, yet you place all hope in one person. That is not the way to lead a village; it is not the way to win a war.” 

“Suddenly you’re the expert on winning wars? What wars have you fought, Gaara of the Desert? What great deeds have you done in your time as Kazekage? You’d be dead by now if not for that elder woman who gave her life for yours; your village is gone, lost to Madara’s will; your people are refuges of war, victims to your ineptitude—”

Gaara’s sand hissed furiously within his gourd, making it shake in its place. Had he been stronger, he’d have risen from his bed in his fury. His body was taught, making his ribs protest and his breath falter. He glared back at Tsunade, matching anger for anger. He would not let her use his guilt against him, nor would he let her hide behind her years and experience to justify her choice. 

“I saved my people. What did you do when your village was under siege? Konoha would have been lost because you could not make the decision that should have been made, but Suna will continue on because its people do. I may be young, but I am not a fool, Tsunade. I have earned my title as Kazekage and I will not be spoken to like a child. You have made your decision; it cannot be undone. But know this: It is not wisdom and experience that guide you, and your fear is going to cost you greatly. Had you more faith in your own people, maybe you would not need to bring one person back to save you.”

Tsunade huffed, nostrils flaring like a bull ready to charge. But she shook her head, moving to the door. “There is no getting through to you,” she said. “But remember, Kazekage, you are a guest in my village. Perhaps practice a little more courtesy.” 

She slammed the door behind her, a hairline crack forming in the doorway from the force of her strength. The time for discourse between Konoha and Suna was at an end: Tsunade was firm in her decision and Gaara would not be moved. They were two villages at odds, now. Their alliance had finally been tested and it seemed that the peace between their villages would not out last them. 

Gaara sighed, his sand finally settling, and wondered at the many ways Tsunade’s decision could go wrong.

***

“Your report is enlightening,” Osamu murmured, looking up from the paper Sayuu had submitted the night before. Guilt coiled in her stomach like a snake as she looked at the council members. She had warred with herself since the tunnels, since she'd seen the Kazekage crying for his village and his people, but no matter how uneasy she felt at divulging such information to the council she was sure it was the right thing to do. 

She had tried for years now to see Gaara as the Kazekage of her village, as a wise and kind leader, but he would always be Gaara of the Desert, the monster of Suna. He had proven that in the desert, when his sand had raged more vicious than any sand storm she'd ever been caught in. 

“Did you sustain any injuries in this sandstorm?” Tarou asked, looking across at her expectantly. 

“No, sir,” Sayuu said, doubt creeping in.

“Really?” Osamu prodded. “Not even a scratch? Surely something must have hurt you in the midst of such—such fury!” 

Sayuu shook her head. “No.” 

The guilt felt like poison in her veins now. The Kazekage hadn't hurt her, hadn't so much as let a single grain of sand hit her despite his rage; instead she had felt his chakra around her, protecting her from the storm, and this was how she repaid him. Was this the honorable thing to do? 

Memories flashed as she sought some vestige of proof that she had been right to report his outburst to the council. She could remember the bloody scenes shortly after Gaara had killed someone, she could still feel his cold gaze on her from all those years ago. He'd been such a monstrous child. The past had not seemed so far away from her in the midst of that storm, but now as she stood before the council it felt like a lifetime. After all, the monster she remembered would never have shed a tear for the dead. 

“If you're sure you were unharmed,” Hayato said, his beady eyes searing into her as though he could see through her mask. “Of course, this will still be dealt with, regardless of your state. The Kazekage has clearly proven himself unfit to lead Suna.” 

“Quite unfit,” Gorou agreed. “Of course, we will need to wait to take action. Now is, understandably, a very difficult time. The people of Suna would be most upset and we cannot afford the unrest that might cause.” 

The other council members agreed, humming in a pleased fashion. 

“You will be recognized, of course, for your loyalty to your village. This is a very brave thing you've done, coming forward like this.” Osamu rolled up her report, tying a red ribbon around it. “Should the Kazekage survive the war we will see to it that this matter is dealt with. Suna's people shouldn't be ruled by a madman, after all.” 

Sayuu swallowed. 

“You are dismissed,” Hayato said. 

She bowed perfunctorily, her body tense from the poisonous guilt that had settled in her. The council began murmuring amongst themselves, plans already half-formed in their minds. Sayuu could read them all like a book: they were all power hungry, grasping fools. But she was the biggest fool of all for daring to betray her Kazekage. 

***

“If he's coming home then that means hope isn't lost,” a young woman was saying a booth down from Kakashi and Gai. “Once he's back—”

“He's one man! Not even a man, yet! He's still just a kid,” a gruff voiced woman replied. Gai shifted in his seat, carefully shifting his gaze past Kakashi. The gruff voiced woman was frowning across the table, eyebrows raised. “You can't honestly put all your faith in one person.” 

“That's what you do, isn't it? You put your faith in the Kazekage, after all. None of you were too happy when he was gone—”

“He's the leader of our village,” the Suna woman countered. “Uzumaki Naruto is just a genin.” 

The other woman slammed her hand down on the table. “He's not just a genin! He's the hero who saved us from Pein. I may not be in the know—my husband won't tell me anything about what's happening, damn him—but I know it's bad. We all do. Naruto coming home is the best thing for all of us.” 

The Suna woman huffed. “I don't think so.”

“You're only saying so because the Kazekage doesn't think he should come home.” 

“The Kazekage knows him, doesn't he? If he thinks Naruto shouldn't come home, then I agree with him.” 

“That's ridiculous! Naruto saved us all from death! Our village was nearly destroyed. What did your Kazekage do?” 

The Suna woman was on her feet in an instant, hands flying in the air. Gai was out of his seat faster than Kakashi could blink, gently holding the Suna woman back from her friend. 

“Ladies, please!” he said, his voice loud in the sudden silent restaurant. “This is no way to behave! You are friends—”

“Not anymore,” the Suna woman snapped. She jerked and Gai let her go. “Our Kazekage is a great leader. What is your Hokage but a faithless coward?”

“How dare you!? The Hokage is a brave woman—”

The Suna woman spat on the ground. “That's what I think of your Hokage's bravery.” 

With that she turned on her heel and marched from the restaurant, ignoring the many stares from the other patrons and workers. Gai let out a sigh. 

“The Hokage's right,” the woman said softly from her seat. Gai turned to meet her fierce gaze. There was a plea for validation in it and a challenge, too. Though the citizens of Konoha knew few details of the war, there was no doubt that they were afraid. 

Gai bowed. “Excuse me,” he said, then returned to his seat. A moment later the woman left. The tension within the restaurant did not follow her out. 

“This is most troubling,” Gai said under his breath. 

Kakashi nodded. “Did you expect anything less?”

Gai looked out the window, watching carefully the mingling of citizens passing them by. A woman was in a heated discussion with the owner of a fruit stand across from them; she had the dark complexion so common among Suna's people and the hard expression of a woman that refused to be moved. The owner of the stand waved his hands at her, shooing her from the stall. 

Farther down, a group of Konoha citizens watched as a group of Suna's people passed, the distaste in their gaze open for all to see. 

“This does not bode well for the village,” Gai finally said. 

“No,” Kakashi agreed. “Nor for the alliance.” 

***

The sound of weapons singing through the air came to a steady halt. The children were tired, but despite this there was a sense of pride in the way they carried themselves as they returned their weapons to Tenten's scrolls for safe keeping. 

“Tomorrow we will resume practice at the usual time,” Higen said. “Be prepared for partnered practice with your Suna comrades” 

There was a collective groan from the group and a tiny voice said, “I don't wanna practice with those foreigners!” 

Higen turned, his gaze pinning Nanako. “Those foreigners are your allies and friends. You will not be so disrespectful in their presence tomorrow.” 

“But my mom said the Kazekage was a bad man and that anyone who lets a monster like that lead a village is just as bad.” 

“Your mother doesn't know what she's talking about,” Higen replied evenly. “Is she fighting in this war?” 

Nanako pouted. “No.” 

“Then I suggest you not listen to your mother. All of you will be on your best behaviour tomorrow. You will be fighting alongside Suna should the village be attacked, and if you cannot so much as practice together then there is no hope that you can work together to protect Konoha.”

The children exchanged looks, some glaring up at Higen as though they would challenge him. 

Tenten shook her head. “If you cannot work together tomorrow, then perhaps you would rather run laps around the village walls all day?” A chorus of protests met this statement and Tenten grinned. “Then don't argue. Suna's shinobi are helping to protect this village now, they are just as much a part of Konoha as you.” 

The children nodded. 

“Dismissed,” Higen said. 

Tenten formed the seals that would contain the weapons within her scrolls until the next day. Tonboko practically skipped towards Tenten, Demon Cutter in hand, still a head too tall for her though she had learned to wield it impressively for someone so young and so small. Tonboko was the only one Tenten had allowed to keep their weapon of choice. Tonboko had been claimed by the blade in as much as she had claimed it for herself, Tenten simply would not part a blade from its destined master. 

“Yes, Tonboko-chan?” she asked, smiling kindly, already knowing what to expect. Tonboko had been the most enthusiastic of the twelve students under Tenten's direct tutelage, always dawdling so she could ask Tenten questions about Demon Cutter or the many other weapons in Tenten's scrolls. 

“Tenten-sensei,” Tonboko said, all breathless excitement, “can I show you something? I've been practicing with Demon Cutter on my own and, and, and I made up my own technique!”

The excitement in Tonboko's expression would have warmed Tenten's heart, but her own enthusiasm was dimmed by the circumstances of war. There was simply no innocence left in Tonboko's excitement; there was nothing innocuous about her pride. Everything had been marred by the war. The nightmares that had plagued Tenten resurfaced as she looked into Tonboko's eager face, and for a moment she could see nothing but blood and death. She swallowed, forcing herself to smile. 

“That's wonderful! What's it called?” 

“Demon Destruction!” 

“Oh, sounds very scary,” she managed, the heaviness in her heart weighing her words. She straightened, stepping back so she could allow Tonboko room to show off her skills. Higen stepped up beside her, his presence a solid comfort to her. It was nothing to the comfort that Neji's presence at her side gave her, nor did it make up for the absence of Lee's boisterous presence in her life, but it would do. “All right, then. Show us.” 

Tonboko took a deep breath, raising her hand high in the air. She took a step back, bringing Demon Cutter in front of her, one hand gripping it tightly before her. In an instant, she'd launched the spear into the air, where it flipped several times in place kicking up a strong wind. Before it could descend to earth, Tonboko kicked off the ground, meeting her spear midair and snatching it up. She propelled herself into a graceful twirl that slowly picked up momentum, and as she twirled the spear head danced around her. 

She wasn't fast enough yet, but Tenten could see the potential in the technique. Tonboko had a proclivity for wind and a knack for weaponry. She would do well as as a shinobi if she saw the end of the war. 

Tonboko's twirling figure slowed as she descended to earth, but before she'd landed she took her spear in hand and pointed the tip downwards, leveling a sharp wind towards the ground. When she landed, she used the spear to kick herself around slightly haphazardly before she finally came to rest.

Tenten clapped, smiling in relief. There was no telling what would happen in the war, but she could hope for a moment that Tonboko would survive. 

“Did you like it, Tenten-sensei?!” Tonboko asked, yanking her spear out of the ground. 

“That was wonderful, Tonboko-chan! And you came up with it all by yourself?” 

Tonboko smiled proudly up at her. “I did!” 

“You have great potential,” Higen said. “Practice this technique until you've perfected it.” 

Tenten tried not to roll her eyes at Higen's serious tone. “You moved so fast, Tonboko-chan. I bet you could move even faster though!” 

“I will! I'm gonna go home and practice right now!” 

“Don't over do it,” Tenten chided. “You should play with your friends, too.” 

“I do,” Tonboko said. “But this is more important. I have to be strong to protect the village.”

Tenten's smile slipped from her face. She glanced at Higen, but his expression was as blank as it ever was. Though she had spent many weeks in his company, he was as tough to read as the rest of Suna's people. She sighed. “You're very strong,” she whispered, reaching out a hand to brush Tonboko's hair from her face. “Go home and practice. I want to see improvement by next week.”

Tonboko gave her a bright smile. “I will, Tenten-sensei! I'll make you proud.” 

Tenten watched her go in silence, the heaviness in her heart no lighter for the hope that Tonboko's skill had instilled in her. She needed reassurance, but she did not think that even Lee's flowery speeches could give her that now.

***

Akamaru shook as they trekked through the forest. Kiba spared a glance at his mother and sister, their own ninken clearly uneasy as well. His mother and sister looked grim as they walked through the trees, eyes darting around the forest swiftly. 

The scent of death had overwhelmed them not long after they'd left Konoha. Half a day's travel from the village and they had all been forced to slow their pace, wary and on edge as they traipsed through the lush forests of Fire. They had a long journey still before they made it to Rice Field Country, at least another two day's travel at the rate they were moving. If Kiba were honest, he'd much rather hightail it back home. 

Akamaru nudged Kiba, pushing Kiba's arm up so he might slip his large head beneath Kiba's arm. He smiled uneasily down at Akamaru, scratching behind his ear. 

“It's all right,” he whispered, as quiet as he could be. 

The words filled the silence that had enveloped them, making him tense. They had not spoken since they'd slowed their pace and it made Kiba keenly aware of how vulnerable he'd felt in the silence. 

“This place is anything but all right,” Hana said. The Haimaru brothers growled lowly in agreement. 

“Hush now,” their mother warned. “That's enough.” 

“Sorry,” Hana muttered. “I just—”

“I know, but until we are out of this forsaken wood don't talk. This place is not ours anymore, Hana.” 

Hana nodded, falling silent. 

The quiet that followed left Kiba more anxious than he'd been before. He forced himself to pay attention to their surroundings again, trying not to breathe too deeply in case he choked on the stench of death and decay. 

His mother was right, they'd known it the moment they'd gotten far enough away from Konoha. The forests of fire were as much their home now as Suna was the Kazekage's. Kiba wondered if they could even reclaim this world for the living, now that it was so covered in death.

He shook himself from those thoughts, his ears pricked for any sound that might be the approach of the end.

***

Zetsu liked becoming familiar with the lives of those he infected: For instance, the Captain of Konoha's Watch had been a seasoned shinobi, as evidenced by his station. He had been nearing his fiftieth birthday and had no family left save his young sister-in-law who had been sent out with other shinobi to form a border patrol between Wind Country and River. Zetsu had found great amusement in learning the carefully laid plans of the great shinobi nations. 

They were so determined to fight for their survival. He almost admired their tenacity. 

The real treat for him, though, had been upon the Kazekage's return. Talk of the Kazekage had been scarce among the Suna shinobi on watch; they were a tight-lipped group, a wise move he had grudgingly noted, but they could not keep their Konoha peers from idle chatter.

He'd learned, prior to the Kazekage's return, of Gaara's hopeless mission. His surprise had only been second to his elation for he had been sure of the Kazekage's death. The disappointment at the Kazekage's return had at least been short lived—in fact, it was a blessing in disguise. Had Gaara not returned, Zetsu would not have taken the opportunity to make his way to Hokage Tower under the pretense of informing Tsunade of Gaara's arrival, and then he would have missed the news that Uzumaki Naruto and Killer Bee were to be brought into the fray. 

What was more: the Kazekage and Hokage did not see eye to eye on the matter. 

Spreading rumors had been all too easy. He'd taken his host out to the shops that night, ordered dinner at Ichiraku where he spent his time alternating between playing the overworked shinobi and dropping lines about the goings on within the Tower. The lone customer at the counter had seemed quite interested in what he'd had to say about the Hokage and Kazekage's argument. Zetsu hardly had to say anything before the man was rallying against the Kazekage. 

And on it went. The owner of the ramen stand overheard the conversation and then he relayed it to the next customer and the next, each time exaggerating the tale more and more. When the first Suna patron since Zetsu's arrival had come, the owner had been distant and cold.

It was a joyous thing, watching people bring about their own ruin. 

Zetsu could not have been more pleased. 

***

Iruka did not like lying on principle. He would do it for the sake of a mission, but outright lying to those he cared about did not sit well with him. Lying to Naruto left a bitter taste in his mouth; it was a guilt that no amount of consolation or reason could assuage. He knew it was for Naruto's own good, of course. The thought of Naruto in the midst of war kept Iruka up late into the night more so than the fear of the dangerous beasts that inhabited the island. Those were monsters he could face off against in a fight. 

Naruto's death was not. 

So he lied the way he had been trained to, with ease and precision and such conviction that Iruka himself almost believed it. Naruto's trust in him made it all the easier to keep up pretenses. 

There was a chill wind blowing up from the western shores of the island. It unsettled him and had his mind wandering to dark places. They had not had news of the brewing war and nothing on Gai's condition had been reported back to them. For all he knew, Gai had died saving them.

Kisame's presence had certainly been difficult to explain to Naruto, but Iruka had navigated those lies as easily as he'd navigated all the others. He'd been worried that his explanation hadn't been sound, but Naruto hadn't seemed to give it much thought, accepting it as fact simply because Iruka had said it was. He did not deserve such trust, but he counted his blessings if it meant Naruto was safe from Madara's reach for a little longer. 

He found himself wondering more and more frequently what they would do once Madara had found their location. Would Madara come himself? Or would another member of Akatsuki come in his stead? Iruka couldn't be sure, but if memory served, Akatsuki's numbers had dwindled a great deal. He supposed it didn't matter either way. He and Yamato were no match against someone as powerful as Madara, and though Naruto's skills had improved greatly under Killer Bee's instruction, Iruka did not dare to hope that either of them would be enough to stop someone so terrifyingly strong. 

Iruka took in a steadying breath, closing his eyes against the cool breeze. He turned away from the shoreline, heading back to the waterfall that Naruto and Bee had taken up for their training. Watching Naruto's growth was all that eased his worries now. Though he did not dare hope that Naruto could stand up against the likes of Madara, he would take small comforts where he could. 

The wind chased him all the way back into the thick forests, the white spores floating unseen on its current finally settling on Iruka's shoulder.


	9. The Medicine Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medics deal in life and death, so it's only natural that medic-nin be tasked with the difficult mission of finding a way to fight the dead. Sequestered in Iron, the medical teams race against the clock to find the answers they need to turn the tide of the war, but they're shooting in the dark until an unexpected delivery arrives, bringing with it hope... If they can unlock its secrets, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I _said_ I wasn't gonna update for a while, but well.... I've got the bug right now. So I just had to update this. Anyway, I know this is kind of a slow moving fic in a lot of ways--I mean, it's focused a lot on politics, and less on action for a lot of it, but I really hope people are enjoying it. Things are starting to get more action-based with each chapter--or at least, I hope everyone reading thinks so! I guess I'm kind of biased lol But I do hope everyone enjoys this chapter--and I hope I don't offend anyone with my silly pseudo science that probably makes no actual sense. I have absolutely no head for science and biology, so it really is all complete bullshit. But I bullshit with conviction at least!

The heavy knocking on the door came late in the night, shocking Sakura from uneasy dreams. A kunai was in her hand, her heart was in her throat, and the knocking continued: a systematic drumming, the sound of metal reverberating through the underground labs.

She listened carefully as her heart slowed to an even rhythm, counting the knocks and listening for the secret code: one, two, three, four, five knocks; a beat. Then six, seven, eight, nine, ten knocks. Another beat followed, longer this time, before the knocking continued in the same systematic rhythm. Sakura closed her eyes, relief washing over her. They were still safe.

The knocking subsided. Sakura rose from her bed, bare feet hitting the cold stone floor. She set her kunai aside and checked her clock: it was just past midnight. She ran her hand down her face, letting out a sigh. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep; not only would it take her several hours of tossing and turning, but she suspected that Shizune would be rousing them all any moment now. Sakura let her mind wander as she went about getting dressed. She missed Konoha; she missed her parents; she missed her sensei and Naruto; she even missed Sai. The thought made her feel uncomfortable, lonely, and hollow. 

There was a knock at her door and, before she could answer, it was pushed open. Sakura tugged her shirt over her head quickly, turning to face Shizune.

“What's happened?” she asked, thrown by the open expression on Shizune's face.

“The samurai just brought us—I can't believe it, it's more than we could have ever hoped for! They brought us Orochimaru's research, Sakura. This—this could be it.”

Sakura gasped, sitting down suddenly on her bed. “It's—it's really his research?”

Shizune nodded. “Yes. There was a note,” she said, handing it over for Sakura to read. “There's no doubt it's his.” 

Sakura read over Tsunade's message; it was concise but full of hope. She looked up at Shizune, her throat tight. “It's got to be in there, hasn't it? There has to be something in there about fighting against the undead.”

“We'll find it, Sakura. I know we will. I'm going to go wake the others. Take these scrolls to the labs. I'll be there shortly with everyone else.”

“Yes,” Sakura said in a daze, taking the many scrolls into her arms. She followed behind Shizune, her mind racing. It was so much—almost too much to take in all at once—but the thought that perhaps soon they would have a way of fighting against the enemy filled her with joy. They might even be able to go home by the end of the week if they worked hard enough. The hope that filled her was like the sunlight and bird song which she had been so deprived of; it was the warmth of Konoha and the smell of the trees; she would have cried with relief if she were not afraid of putting such faith in hope. 

Hope could be taken from her, hopes could be dashed.

She held the scrolls tighter in her arms as she pushed the lab doors open. The lights flickered on, blindingly white and artificial, making her eyes ache. She set the scrolls on a table in the center of the room, eager to open them and begin reading, but afraid to be let down. What if it was all for naught? What if they only wasted their time on old scrolls that, for all they knew, could be be a decoy? What if these scrolls weren't their salvation? Sakura shook the doubts away. Fate could not be so cruel. And yet...

Her hands shook as she pulled one of the scrolls towards her. The scroll felt heavy with the promise of freedom and protection; the sound of the seal breaking set her heart racing; and the delicate paper, so fragile under her touch, made her fingertips tingle. She ran her fingers reverently over the words and figures, captivated by that bubbling hope once again, all fears chased away as she lost herself in the scroll. 

They were so much closer now to an answer; so much closer to home. 

***

He was being stalked through the forest, the enemy shinobi trailing him always at a distance, always just out of sight. It had been three days of this roundabout game of cat-and-mouse, and the longer it went on the harder it was for Sai to keep himself out of danger. It was only a matter of time before the enemy finally found him, and though he did not fear death he did not welcome it either. 

He'd accepted the reality of his mission before entering the forest, he'd known that eventually he would meet his end, but some part of him had almost believed he'd see his friends again. It had been an idle hope that he didn't entertain for long; there was no point in letting himself believe in such flights of fancy. He'd always known what his mission was: it was a suicide mission. He'd known it the same way he knew that the sky was blue and that he was a shinobi of Konoha. Shino had known as well. They'd not been naive enough to think otherwise, and they had set their affairs in order before departing the village. Yet for all that he'd been prepared to die in the forests of his country, he was still surprised by it. He would not cry over his own death, he did not feel particularly sad about it, but he did feel something. 

He wished he had Naruto or Sakura to talk to in his final days, but then thoughts of them made that feeling prick at him more keenly. Perhaps it was loneliness, perhaps he simply missed his friends. The thought made him smile. At least he would not die without friends. He wondered idly, as he sat in the tree tops of the forest, if they would mourn him. Sakura certainly would, he was almost sure. After all, he was under the impression that sex formed a stronger bond between two people—at least, that's what he'd been led to believe. Of course, he would never know if Sakura felt differently about him now. He hadn't seen her since their encounter, her mission in Iron having separated them immediately after. 

He didn't think he felt differently about her, though he'd thought about it on occasion afterwards. It had simply been a curiosity for him. Sakura had been upset and he'd been curious. She had threatened to end his life if he breathed a word and made it perfectly clear that it was a one time offer. Sai didn't mind that; he didn't particularly care about sex one way or the other (or romance, for that matter), and he could respect her desire to keep it a secret, if only to protect himself from future harm. But sometimes he wondered if she cared about him more now. He didn't want her undying love and he didn't want to sleep with her again, but he wondered—perhaps even hoped it had altered their friendship for the better. He shook himself from his thoughts, focusing on the forest again. The enemy was drawing nearer, a mass of dark chakra intentionally unmasked. They had no reason to hide their presence—after all, Sai was alone and they were invulnerable. 

His notebook was a welcome comfort to him as the enemy closed in. He'd already sent one of his inked beasts to Konoha with his status report and an update on his approaching death. The council was unlikely to be moved and Tsunade surely would have expected this, but he hoped they would inform his teammates. He did not want them to be left in the dark; he was sure the uncertainty would be far worse than the knowledge itself. 

Leaves crunched far below the forest as he sketched one last time. He could hear the muffled sounds of voices far below, but made no move to escape. Sai was a realist; his time had come.

“I'm curious,” a voice said above him, “what Konoha thinks it's going to accomplish by sending it's shinobi out into the forest? Have they given up? Are they just letting us pick you off one by one?” 

Sai looked up into the darkness to see the silhouette of an unknown shinobi. He smiled up at them. “Konoha won't ever give up.”

The person snorted. “That's cute. Then I suppose you're going to fight us? You must know you're outnumbered.” 

"I'm not going to fight.” 

“Really?” There was surprise in his would-be killer's voice. “Not afraid to die, then?” 

“No. Should I be?” 

Silence met his question. He watched as the shinobi jumped from the branch above him, landing cat-like before him. A kunai was at his throat before he could so much as put his notebook away. “You could try running, you know? I have enough control over myself still.”

“What good would that do?” 

“It would buy you _time_ ,” the shinobi snapped, an almost desperate edge to their voice. “Where is your Will of Fire?”

Sai's smile, as benign as it ever was, widened. “It is with my friends. I know they will not let the shinobi world down.” 

There was a choked sound and the kunai pressed against his pulse. His attacker was holding back; Sai could feel the edge of the blade biting at his skin just shy of threatening. It was almost gentle, certainly not hard enough to draw blood yet. “I don't—want to do—this.” The words were stilted, as though they were fighting hard to speak their truth.

“It's all right,” Sai said, bringing his hand up to the shinobi's wrist. “It's not your fault.”

“P-please run. I don't want to kill you.” They were crying. Sai felt tear drops fall against his hand and the shake of his attacker's hand as they pressed the kunai harder against his jugular. A thin line of warm wetness rolled down his neck, soaking into his shirt and he swallowed hard against the blade. 

“What's it like?” 

“W-what?” 

“Death.” 

The shinobi shook their head. “It's—it's quiet and bright and—please, just run! My comrades and I are still strong enough! You don't have to die here!” 

Sai let go of their hand, reaching out to touch their face. It was cold and the skin felt strange, like it were made of clay. “There is no where else for me to go.” 

"You could go home!" they all but screamed. "You could try! Try dammit!" 

Sai continued to smile up at them. He had nothing more to say; they both knew he was too far from Konoha to safely return. 

The moment stretched as the shinobi waited, staring him down in the darkness. The moonlight filtering through the trees cast a beautiful glow around them, and as the wind blew and the leaves swayed he caught a glimpse of the shinobi's face and the tears they cried for him. It was strange to see someone he'd never known so saddened by his imminent loss. He let out a sigh, as his attacker screamed their frustration. The kunai was yanked back, the shinobi a rigid outline in the darkness. “Why won't you fight?” they ground out, but before Sai could answer they lunged forward, kunai piercing Sai's chest in one fluid motion. He tensed against the intrusion before he could stop himself, his cracked sternum aching and blood seeping down his front, drenching his sketchbook. He coughed harshly, the taste of iron filling his mouth.

“I-I'm so sorry,” the shinobi said. “I-I tried. I tried to tell you!”

Sai shook his head, smiling softly. “It's all right.” 

His sketchbook slipped from his lap, falling to the forest floor. The shinobi waiting below turned, looking for the source of the sound. 

“What's this?” one of them asked, picking up the sketchbook. He opened it up to a blood splattered drawing of a young pink haired woman and a blond haired young man smiling up from the page. There was an unfinished sketch of a pale-faced, black haired shinobi next to them.

“Do you think he'll want it back?” one of them asked, looking at the drawing over his comrades shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. He closed the book with a snap, looking back up into the trees. “When he returns, I'm sure he'll want this back.” 

***

The summer wind whipped through her hair as they made their way swiftly from the valleys of River towards the forests of Fire. Shikamaru was leading them to the coast where they would take the back roads through the forest. The smell of salt filled Hinata's nose and if she listened carefully she could hear waves slapping against the approaching shore. 

She frowned as her senses were overwhelmed by a bitter chakra, like the barely there aftertaste of horseradish. Hinata activated her byakugan, searching out the source of that bitterness. 

“The enemy has spotted us,” she said quietly, pulling up alongside Shikamaru. 

Shikamaru's eyes narrowed. “How close?” 

“Closing in at fifty meters,” she said, focusing her byakugan on the enemy to increase its range. The enemy were like shadows in her field of vision, blurry figures in black with their chakra swirling like smoke as they moved in. “There are at least twenty of them.” 

“At least?”

“They don't look whole,” she said. “I can't make them all out; their chakra all looks the same. It's all just one massive black shadow.”

Shikamaru was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Do you think we can lose them?” 

Hinata shook her head. “I don't want to rely on that. They're moving fast—too fast. I-I don't think they're human.” 

Shikamaru nodded, looking back to their teammates. “Be prepared to engage!” 

Their four comrades exchanged ominous looks, each drawing their weapons as one. Riisa's manriki rattled as she unwound several feet of the chain at once, one of the large weights in hand and the other trailing behind her; Susumu's long sword shown in the summer sunlight as he unsheathed it; Sato and Sunako held kunai at the ready, their eyes narrowed. 

The enemy was gaining on them with each passing moment, even as they continued to press on faster now than before. Hinata dared to hope that they would make it out alive, if only because she did not think she could face down the enemy without it. 

The first attack came suddenly. The enemy rained black-bladed kunai down on them that vanished as they hit the ground. Shikamaru did not stop moving. 

Riisa let out a guttural roar, like a beast, swinging her manriki above her head. The weight passed harmlessly through their attackers, forcing Riisa to keep moving. 

“Dammit,” she cursed, frustration coloring her voice. 

“How the hell are we supposed to fight these things? It's like they're not even there!” Susumu yelled. 

“There's no way!” Riisa snapped. “This is just like what happened in Suna. There's no way we can defeat them!” 

Hinata felt her heart flutter anxiously. They could not give up yet. Even if they couldn't fight, they could still try to outrun the enemy. 

Shikamaru glanced back at the approaching army, his eyes narrowed. “Hinata.” 

“Yes?” 

“What did you say their chakra was like?” 

“I—it was like a—” Something dawned on Hinata as she looked at Shikamaru and the hope she was so determined to hold onto swelled within her. “It was like a shadow! They're just like shadows!” 

Despite the enormity of the situation, Shikamaru smirked, turning half-way around in midair, his hands forming seals. “Everyone, I need you to keep calm. There's still hope.” He released his shadow, extending it like a gargantuan void towards the enemy. His feet hit the ground and he came to a sliding halt as the enemy was forced to a stand still. 

“You did it!” Sunako exclaimed, awe and relief in her voice. “How—how did you do that?” 

“They're—just—shadows,” Shikamaru said, his voice strained and shaking. “I don't think I can hold them for long though. There's too many of them.” 

“Shikamaru-kun,” Hinata said, keeping her eyes on the enemy, “what should we do? Can you move?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, but I—I have to concentrate. There's—it's—they don't have a will of their own, but it's—”Shikamaru fell forward suddenly, the jutsu releasing the enemy instantly. Hinata caught him in her arms, eyes wide. 

“Shit,” Shikamaru hissed, pulling out a kunai. It glowed weakly with chakra for a moment before he lobbed it at the approaching shinobi. The kunai embedded itself in one with a harsh sounding crack like a whip and the black-clad ninja fell to the ground, fading into nothing. Shikamaru let out a tired chuckle. “Gotcha.” 

“Hurry!” Hinata cried to the others. “Go!” She pulled Shikamaru's arm over her shoulder, then with all the strength and speed she possessed in her tired body, ran to catch up with their teammates. Kunai and shuriken flew at them, and up ahead Sunako let out a high pitched scream, crumpling to the ground. 

“Sunako!” Sato cried, skidding to a stop. 

“I-I'm fine—keep going!” 

Sato ignored her, rushing to her side. He picked her up easily before continuing on. The team ran as fast as they could, dodging weapons left and right. Shikamaru grabbed several shuriken from his weapons pouch, infusing them with chakra before letting them fly. Each time they hit their intended target one of the enemies number would disappear as though it had never been. 

It took them an hour to put a safe distance between themselves and the enemy. By then, they had reached the shores of River Country where they were forced to a halt at the edge of a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Below them waves crashed against jagged rocks with not a single stretch of sandy beach available to them. 

“L-let me up,” Shikamaru muttered, forcing himself away from Hinata. He tottered briefly on his feet, searching his weapons pouch for anything left. He came up empty. “Riisa,” he called. 

“Yeah,?” Riisa grunted. 

“How far can you throw that thing?” 

Riisa grinned, cracking her knuckles. “Pretty damn far.” 

“Good.” Shikamaru extended his hand, taking one weighted end of Riisa's manriki. “I'm going to hold onto this end and infuse it with my chakra. The moment you see them, I want you to take them down.” 

“You're the boss,” Riisa said with a wink. 

“Hinata,” Shikamaru said, drawing her attention away from the chakra infused chain. “How far are they?” 

“Just over that hill,” she said, pointing straight ahead. “T-they'll be here any moment.” 

“Ready, Riisa?” 

“When you are,” she said. 

“Hinata, give us a warning when they're about to come over the hill.” 

“Hai.” 

“Sato,” he called back, not daring to take his eyes off the hill. “How's Sunako?” 

Behind them, Sato was kneeling with Sunako in his arms. Her breathing was labored and her eyes heavy-lidded. Blood had soaked through her clothes, and Sato's hands were stained red. 

“It's—it's not good,” he muttered, rummaging in his sack for medical supplies. “I'll do what I can.” 

“Once we've taken the enemy down, we'll find cover. We can afford to wait a day or so while she recovers.” 

Sato looked up at Shikamaru, his expression blank. “I—right. Thank you.” 

“They're here, Shikamaru-kun!” Hinata cried, halting the conversation. 

“Ready, Riisa?” 

“Always,” she said, grin still in place. “I can't wait to take these fuckers down.” 

Right on cue, the remaining black-clad ninja appeared over the hill. Their numbers were still more than twice that of their own, despite the many weapons Shikamaru had thrown at them. Hinata swallowed, looking to Shikamaru and Riisa. 

Riisa was already twirling her chain at her side, the large weight whooshing through the air, faster and faster. The look in her eyes was murderous, the smile on her face vengeful. Hinata felt a shiver go down her spine. 

“Riisa,” Shikamaru said, a warning note in his voice. His eyes shot back and forth over the advancing forces, his hands shaking just slightly. Hinata inched closer, just in case he keeled over again. 

The sound of metal sliding against metal rang out over the cliff and then Riisa lobbed the other weighted end of her chain towards the advancing army, swinging it around and through them. Sharp barbs had sprouted like flowers on the chain, slicing through the enemy shinobi. One by one they disappeared, shadows flickering out of existence. 

Shikamaru released Riisa's weapon, slumping into Hinata's waiting arms. “D-damn.” 

Riisa whistled. “You could say that again.” 

“Sa-Sato,” Shikamaru said, looking over his shoulder. “Is she holding up all right?” 

Sato's face was pale, his expression grim. “We need to find somewhere safe. She won't last much longer unless I can stitch her up.” 

“All right. Let's move out. We'll stick to the coast. Don't wander into the forest and stay together. Once we find someplace we'll set up camp.” 

“Do you think we'll be able to make it back to Konoha without running into more trouble?” Riisa asked as Susumu helped Sato with his sister. Shikamaru shook his head. 

“It's a miracle we didn't run into trouble before now,” he said. “The enemy knows we're out here; I wouldn't delude myself into thinking they won't come after us again.” 

Riisa shook her head, putting away her manriki. “Then I guess it's a good thing we figured out how to fight those guys.” 

Shikamaru nodded. “A good thing, indeed.” 

***

Sakura had not slept for more than three hours since they'd received Orochimaru's research. She couldn't sleep; she barely remembered to eat; all she could do was work until her eyes ached and her head throbbed. They had been working for three and a half days straight—deciphering codes, reading and re-reading the research, taking notes, positing theories—but they hadn't been able to come up with anything. 

It was exhausting and confusing work, and left the atmosphere in the labs desperate and tense. Shii had taken to snapping at Kusushi, his already obvious dislike of Konoha shinobi all the more apparent under stress; Kiri's distrust of Iwa's shinobi was no longer carefully concealed as he'd taken to giving Umi the cold shoulder and ignoring any of her theories; the other Iwa shinobi had taken to rolling their eyes whenever a Suna medic asked a question; Kumo's medics simply refused to listen to the Konoha medics; and absolutely nobody trusted anyone from Kirigakure. 

Everything was unraveling around Sakura bit by bit. 

They weren't making progress because they weren't working together, and the longer they were forced to work in such close quarters the more difficult it seemed to be for everyone to maintain a professional relationship. There was no end in sight and Sakura knew it wasn't just because of the difficult research they were trying to decipher. 

The diagram Sakura was working on shifted in and out of focus before her, while the gentle hum of people working surrounded her: pencils scratching across paper, liquids being poured from one beaker to another; fires being lit beneath test tubes; the soft clacking of metal instruments being picked up and set down. 

“Sakura,” Shizune's voice said, close to her ear. “Sakura, wake up.”

“I'm awake,” she said, looking up into Shizune's worried face.

“I think you should go sleep,” she said, gently nudging Sakura from her seat.

“No, I-I have to work on this. My team—”

“Will be fine without you for a few hours. You need rest.”

Sakura shook her head, her eyes burning. She was so tired she couldn't think straight, but she knew she had to keep working. “B-but I can't. I have to—I have to do this. I have to save Naruto.”

Shizune's expression fell, her eyes softening. “I know. You will. It's all right. Just—go sleep for a bit. Once you've slept you'll be able to focus on your work better. Please. You're team won't make any progress if you're too tired. And remember, you're not the only one here. There are twenty-five other medics working to find answers. You don't have to carry this burden alone.”

Tears slipped from Sakura's eyes and she quickly covered her face with her hands, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes until she saw stars. She nodded, looking up at Shizune. “I—I'll just be a little while.”

“Three hours minimum,” Shizune said sternly.

Sakura nodded. “Okay. I'll—three hours.”

She left the labs without another word, shuffling tiredly down the corridors towards her room. She did not know how well she would sleep, her thoughts shifting chaotically around in her mind. She could not keep a hold of them, could barely think straight to decipher the text in her mind's eye. All those codes, all those letters and numbers: DNA, RNA, proteins and enzymes, G, A, U, C, T—guanine, adenine, uracil, cytosine, thymine—add three Gs to the helix, remove the T, damage and repair, rebuild, adjust the sugar molecules, five times the amount usual, additional enzymes, amino acids, nucleotides, oxygen, hydrogen, phosphorus, nitrogen, carbon, double-helix, triple-helix, quadra-helix, damaged cells, repair, repair, electric shock, chakra system, nervous system, blood, organs, heart beats, heart beats—

_Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum..._

Sakura wasn't aware that she'd made it to her room, nor was she aware of falling onto her bed. Her mind reeled over the data again and again until she slipped into restless dreams, muttering her unease into the silence of her room.

***

Rice Field Country was all open air and blue skies, rice paddies stretching for miles on end, though not a soul in sight. The scenery was beautifully misleading; if it weren't for the stench of death that lingered everywhere they went, Kiba could have deluded himself into believing they weren't at war.

It was really too bad, he thought, because Rice Field was a beautiful country.

They were nearing the rendezvous point, with just over a mile before they'd reach Otogakura. Kiba wasn't sure if he was more nervous or less nervous now that they were out of the forests and closer to their destination. He supposed he was grateful that they were joining up with more shinobi; even in a hopeless situation, the more people fighting alongside you the better your chances of survival.

Survival had been all that was on his mind lately: survive the journey through the forest, survive the trek through Rice Field, survive the mission in Oto, survive the journey home, survive the inevitable battle, survive this life as a shinobi.

Kiba had never doubted his choice to follow the path of the shinobi. It was all he'd known growing up, all he'd dreamed of. He'd been born into a family of ninja, after all; it only made sense that he too would become a ninja.

But he'd never thought past the point of “becoming a shinobi” or “becoming a Chuunin”. He'd never thought that living life as a warrior meant dying the way of a warrior; a bloody death was almost certain for any shinobi, regardless of skill or age.

A gentle breeze brought with it an unfamiliar scent: dust and foreign trees and the musk of strangers. Kiba's nose twitched, Akamaru and the other ninken growled low, and his mother and sister stopped in their tracks. All three of them had kunai drawn as they stared off in the direction the scent had come from, bodies tense and ready to take action.

“What is your nindo?” a voice called. Kiba vaguely recognized it, but he couldn't place from where.

“Our nindo is of hope.”

“And ours. We will fight to keep that hope alive and make peace.”

From the tall grass emerged a group of five shinobi, all wearing the emblem of Kumo on their hitai-ate. The man at the front had brown skin and white hair, his mouth crooked as though he were smirking though he seemed entirely unamused and unconcerned. Beside him, a blonde woman stood, her blue eyes sizing them up in turn. Kiba disliked both of them right away.

“We saw you coming. Figured we'd meet you here so we can get a move on,” he said. “I'm Darui.”

“Tsume,” Kiba's mother said with a nod. “This is Kuromaru,” she added, patting her ninken's head.

“I didn't expect such a small team to be sent,” Darui said, now looking back at Kiba and Hana.

“You shouldn't discount us simply because there are only three of us. We are twice as strong thanks to our ninken.”

A person behind Darui snorted and grumbled, “Makes sense. Konoha only has dogs in its village.”

Hana bared her teeth. “We're more than dogs,” she growled. “We're Inuzuka, and with or without ninken we would easily rip you to shreds.”

“That's enough, Hana,” Tsume barked. Her eyes were narrowed on the lanky man behind Darui. “Whatever your resentment towards Konoha is, you'd best leave it here. We're a team now; either get used to it or go home. I don't have the time or the patience to deal with your insolence when so much is at stake.”

The man sneered, opening his mouth to retort but Darui glanced back at his comrade, catching his eye, one eyebrow raised. “She's right, Atsui. Can it. Sorry about him,” he added as an afterthought.

Kiba didn't think he was really all that sorry, but he doubted his mother would care for sincerity under the circumstances. All that mattered to any of them was that the mission went smoothly. He was sure even Atsui could agree with that sentiment.

“Don't apologize. Just don't let it happen again.” She looked backed at Atsui, her teeth bared. “I won't ask again.”

“Understood,” Darui said with a nod.

“Well then, I guess that makes us a team,” Tsume said. “Let's head out. If there's any information that you need to share with us that might not have made it to our Hokage, you can share on the way.”

There was a tense moment of silence as Tsume and Darui stared at each other. Finally, Darui broke eye contact. “We know as much as you,” he said. “Sorry. If I had any more information to share, I would.”

“Very well. Then let's move out.”

Darui nodded, turning away from Tsume. As they walked onward towards Otogakure, they did not merge into one group; the Kumo shinobi stuck to their own, keeping a distance between themselves and the three Inuzuka. They marched on in silence, two separate villages sharing a mission and a common goal, but there was little hope that camaraderie would be born from this.

Kiba remembered with stark clarity the time that Naruto had been beaten to a pulp by a Kumo shinobi. He glanced back, spotting the familiar red hair of Naruto's attacker. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the group. The blonde woman had stopped her teammate, but that knowledge did little to appease Kiba's anger at the memory. How could they work with people like this? How were they expected to trust people who called them dogs as though it were an insult? Nothing about this mission had felt right, and now that he was here he couldn't help wonder if teaming up with Kumo for it hadn't been the worst idea ever. Kiba was determined to see the end of this war, and if working with these Kumo shinobi put him or his family in jeapordy...

He shook his head, forcing aside those feelings. Surviving alongside his family and friends wouldn't be difficult; surviving alongside would-be enemies was a challenge but not impossible so long as he didn't let their animosity affect him. He would survive he told himself, and refused to listen to the voice at the back of his head telling him otherwise.

***

The air was thick at the border of Wind Country. Hei wasn't sure if he was just unused to the lack of rain or if it was the encroaching dryness of the air that made it feel so stifling to him. He didn't let himself think that it was the fear of what was to come—he was a shinobi, after all. He couldn't let his fears get to him.

The trees had begun to thin out as they'd neared the boarder, and though he was unused to the harshness of the desert, he was grateful for the thinning forests. It would give them an advantage in the event of an attack—or at least more forewarning. Hei didn't think there could be such a thing as having the advantage over the dead.

“We'll set up camp here,” he told Aki, coming to a halt just before the edge of a steep incline. Roots stuck out from the edge, the sharp points of rocks poking through. Hei looked out over the beginnings of the desert as his team began to unpack their things. This was it; the edge of his country overlooking the start of a barren wasteland, one that had been forsaken by the gods long ago. In Ame, it was believed that steady rainfall was a blessing and though Amegakure was not as prosperous as any of the Five Great Nations, the superstition held fast.

Perhaps it wasn't so far off though; perhaps now Ame would rise above the great nations and prosper more than Konoha or Suna ever had.

He could almost see it as he stared out across the desert: Ame's future, all that potential. But it faded away in the haze rising off the sandy dunes. Hei knew better than to give into flights of fancy. Ame wasn't likely to come out of this war more powerful; it would be a miracle if it came out of the war at all.

“We'll rest for the night,” Hei called, turning back to the bustling shinobi around him. “We'll go over our plans, and then tomorrow morning we'll spread out along the border. Not too far apart, but we need to cover as much terrain as we possibly can.” He looked at the amassed shinobi, to his two teammates, to the people he had grown up with; he tried to take heart, but his people were weary and their eyes held no hint of hope. He wanted to begrudge Konoha and the other great nations for calling on them, for damning his people to this fate, but he knew that Ame would have been dragged down by Madara's forces sooner or later.

At least this way, he supposed, they weren't fighting alone.

***

The highest tower of Ame loomed in sight, a macabre beacon of hope to Daisuke. He hoisted his sister back into his arms, swallowing down the worries that clawed at his throat from Mayumi's dead weight. They were close enough now that if he kept going, they would be there by nightfall. He took to the trees, jumping swiftly from branch to branch, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears pricked for any sound.

The forest was too silent for Daisuke's comfort. There should have been animals about, even in the endless rain, but he had not seen one since his escape from Kusagakure, not even once he'd traveled far from his fallen village and hidden in the caves near the boarder of Earth Country had he spotted any hint of animal life. The animals had gone into hiding, fearful of the dead.

He shivered, his rain soaked clothes sticking to his skin. His gloved hands were numb against Mayumi's body so he gripped her tighter, afraid to lessen his hold on her. It had taken him far too long to make the journey to Amegakure, hiding out for weeks on end in caves, too frightened to leave and face the impossible enemy. He had cared for her as best he could under the circumstances, but without proper supplies he had been forced to make a decision: risk his own death to seek help or let her die.

A twig snapped somewhere below Daisuke.

He didn't look down, afraid he might slip on the wet branches of the trees or come face to face with the undead and be too fearful to go on. Shame flared for a brief moment, but he quickly squashed it. He had to get them to safety, he could think on his cowardice when danger was not hot on his heals. If he was lucky, he would have plenty of years to wallow in it.

The village of Amegakure drew ever closer as he ran forward, yet it always seemed just out of reach. By the time the sun began to set behind the trees, Daisuke was ready to give up hope. But before he could stop, before he could lay his weary body down to rest or call it quits he saw the village's imposing gates. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the desperate relief that seemed ready to surge from him in a great shout of victory: he was not out of danger yet, and even in Ame, danger still danced on the outskirts of the village, waiting for the chance to waltz in and wreak havoc.

The gates of Ame were closed, barring entrance from outsiders. Amegakure had always been less welcoming, but Daisuke hoped under the circumstances that he would not have to barter for sanctuary long.

There was a smattering of guards along the walls, not nearly as many shinobi as should have been standing watch in the midst of war. Anxiety surged in him—what if he had run right to danger—but before he could turn around the guards had spotted him, roused from their watchful silence.

“Approaching shinobi!” one voice shouted.

“Stay where you are,” another cried.

The shouting ceased briefly as the shinobi above exchanged hushed words. Daisuke swallowed. Their paranoia could only mean they were still unharmed; there was still hope for salvation.

“Please!” he cried. “I've come from Kusagakure—I need your help! My village—it's gone! They've taken it. The enemy has taken Kusa. Myself and my sister are all that remains. Please, let me enter! My sister needs a medic!”

Above the shinobi looked down on him like merciless gods. They could turn him away without a second thought; they could leave him at the mercy of the enemy; they could let his sister die. They had all the power, and what did he have?

“I can give you information! I-I saw them! I've seen what the enemy looks like!” Daisuke felt as though he were balanced on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to push him over. He had nothing to offer them but this shred of knowledge, and if they had no use for it—

“Open the gates!”

He nearly sank to his knees in relief, his eyes burning as rain beat down on him, washing away the dread. He was as safe as any of them now and Mayumi could be tended to. He stumbled towards the slowly opening gates, afraid they might close on him if he dallied too long. He fell into the heavy wood of the gates, his sister's weight pulling him against it before he pushed through, finally making it into Ame. He'd barely taken two steps into the village when the gates closed behind him and his legs gave out. He sank to the muddy ground, holding his sister close as tears ran down his cheeks, melting into the rainwater that streamed down his face. Shinobi surrounded him, hesitant and distrusting, weapons drawn, but he didn't care. They had made it to salvation.

“Thank you,” he said and then passed out.

***

Two weeks into the unforgiving task of going over Orochimaru's research, Sakura finally hit a breakthrough. She was absolutely sure, without a shred of doubt, that she was onto something. Her team had been tireless in their dedication to going over his research and it was finally paying off.

She wouldn't breathe a sigh of relief yet, though.

Two members of her division, Miyu and Isshin, were resting, leaving Sakura with Rie and Himawari for assistance. Since her own bout with exhaustion, Sakura had insisted that the members of her division work in intervals; this way someone was always working and the integrity of their work was not sacrificed to sleep deprivation.

“Himawari,” she called, glancing up. “Rie.”

Himawari was currently detailing a theory on how foreign chakra might be capable of returning someone to the world of the living without sacrificing one life for another, and Rie was working on chemical components that might be useful against the undead enemy. Both of them were so deeply involved in their work they didn't hear her call.

“Himawari, Rie,” she said again, louder this time. Both women looked up, blinking owlishly at her. “I think I've found something, but I need a second opinion.”

They rushed to comply. Everyone in the labs was eager to find an answer, any way to fight the enemy. Not only would it mean an end to the war, but it would mean going home. Though the samurai assured them they would know if anything had happened in their villages, it was still unnerving being cut off from their homes for so long.

Sakura pushed the scroll towards them, pointing to the diagram which was now covered in red ink from her meticulous note taking.

“I think I deciphered the code,” she said in hushed tones, afraid to jinx it by speaking too loud. “This character—it stands for sodium. We already knew Orochimaru had written this in code, but we've been overthinking everything!”

Rie frowned, looking over the diagram. “Then... this is just a salt bath?”

Sakura nodded. “Concentrated sodium! It's concentrated sodium charged with massive amounts of chakra. That's how you bring them back!”

“But—shouldn't they just be mindless? They shouldn't be able to move fast or retain any of their personalities, but the Kazekage's account of his battle with that dead Akatsuki mem—”

Sakura shook her head. “This is just the start of the jutsu, the beginning stages. It's a long process. Look here,” Sakura said, pointing to another diagram just beside the first. “A double-helix. I couldn't understand why these notes focused on DNA and RNA so much, but I began to think that maybe it's not just a general figure. At first I thought, maybe it means you need the exact DNA of the person you're bringing back—I don't know how sound that theory is, but it's a possibility. And look here,” she said pointing to a circled phrase. “Pure world. That's—that's what the resurrection jutsu is accessing. It's accessing the souls of the dead from the pure world.”

Himawari frowned. “So, he's just combined science with spirit.”

Sakura nodded emphatically. “Yes,” she said excitedly. “I'm not sure yet, but I think—I think I've got it. There has to be chakra within the body, but the user can't endlessly give their own chakra. They'd just die and they'd have no control over the person they brought back. I mean, we've seen it before when Chiyo-baasama brought back the Kazekage. He's not just reanimated. He's _alive_. So if you sacrifice your chakra, then you're bringing someone back. Permanently. But—but if you can just shock the body into life for a brief enough moment using chakra, then stabilize—you'd have an army of the undead! I'm simplifying the concept, but I think this is it. Shock the dead cells into thinking their alive, attach a departed soul to the body and force it to remain using chakra. I know I'm missing something—I can't figure out how the bodies can last so long and why they don't seem to die when you kill them—but I know this is it.

“Himawari, your chakra theory, could you modify it with this in mind?”

“I—yes,” Himawari said, her eyes so wide they reminded Sakura of Lee. Himawari tugged at her thick hair for a moment, the tight curls straightening in her grasp before bouncing back like springs against her head. “This—this could work. I can make it work. I will.”

Sakura grinned. “And Rie, you were coming up with a chemical component to fight the undead, right?”

“Yeah, but their bodies—wait. Sodium!”

“Exactly,” Sakura said, her smile broadening. “If we can find the right mix that Orochimaru used for this sodium bath and counter it—I mean, if the sodium is still in their system—”

“We can cause a chemical reaction! But—then why isn't the sodium reacting with the oxygen and water vapor in the air? I mean, it's a concentrated sodium bath, right?”

Sakura shrugged. “That's what I'm still trying to figure out. But if you can figure out a way to kill them with the very thing keeping them alive, do it.”

“Right.”

“I'm going to go wake the others. We're going to need all hands on deck for this. At this rate, expect to go without much sleep.”

“Should we tell Shizune?”

“Not yet. I want to be sure before we get everyone else excited. The other divisions have their own tasks to focus on, and I don't want to distract them with this until we know for sure. Once we're positive, we'll tell them.” Her teammates nodded, turning away to resume their tasks. Sakura left, moving quickly from the labs and into the corridors. She felt more sure than she had in weeks as she raced down the hall to wake her teammates.

She held onto that feeling, desperate to believe that this was it and they could finally go home.

***

“We'll be setting sail shortly,” the captain called from the ship. “Sorry for the delay.”

Anko, her back still to the captain, didn't respond. They had made it to port in relative safety, both her team and the Iwa escort for the Tsuchi Daimyo, but despite running into few obstacles, Anko would not relax until they had safely set sail and put considerable distance between themselves and land.

Even then, she did not expect peace of mind to come.

“Ma'am, we're ready to hoist anchor!” the captain called not five minutes later. She glanced back at him, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“I'm not old enough for that,” she muttered to herself. She cast one last look down the road that led back to the forests of Fire, then turned towards the ship.

The Hi Daimyo and the Tsuchi Daimyo were already settled into their own private rooms on opposite sides of the ship. When they'd rendezvoused with the Iwa escort, the two men had taken to making back-handed comments and staring haughtily at one another; it had been like escorting two children rather than two grown men in Anko's opinion. She'd been tempted to gag them both, but somehow had managed to maintain a level of patience she was sure could rival even the most practiced of monks. It would be a relief to finally reach the Nagi Island where she could finally be free from the childish antics she'd had to endure for this mission.

Once they arrived, she'd be penning an angry letter home to remind her superiors that she was a great shinobi, not a babysitter.

On deck, her team and the Iwa team stood along the port and starboard sides of the ship, eyes in all directions, ensuring they were safe while they waited to set sail. She walked around the deck, making her way towards the captain.

“Conditions are good,” he said in place of welcoming her abroad. “If the weather holds out, we'll be docking in Nagi in about a week. We'll go around Whirlpool, then make a straight line through the passage between Water and Fire. Best chance of restocking supplies if things go wrong is to stick close to land, but I'm hopeful.”

“Must be nice,” Anko muttered.

“Beg pardon?”

“Nothing. That sounds fine. Keep me informed of any changes. I'll be below deck if anyone needs me.” She turned, catching the Iwa team leader's eye. Takako had watched Anko their entire long journey together; Anko had felt that sharp gaze on her throughout their trek and it had left her nerves fried. She hoped that Takako would prove trustworthy because she didn't think she could muster the energy to concern herself with deception amongst allies on top of everything else.

But, knowing Iwa's history, she was sure that was a vain hope.

Anko nodded as she made her way towards the stairwell, and Takako pulled away from her team, following after her.

Below, they found a room suited for meetings and sat. Anko spilled her pack onto the table, pulling out maps of Fire and Nagi Island, along with a nautical map. She laid everything out, shuffling all the unnecessary things back into her pack, leaving one kunai out which she left close to her right hand, just in case.

Takako's eyes lingered on the blade briefly.

“The captain's chosen to go through the pass between Fire and Water,” she said, trailing her finger down the nautical map, passing it between a mass of land that represented the hook of Fire Country and a small island off of Water. She glanced up at Takako. “We'll need to set up watches, but I think we should have all hands on deck whenever we travel too close to land.”

Takako hummed. “Do you really think the enemy is that far south?”

“I would like to think they aren't, but I won't be caught off guard. If they are, we need to be ready for them. If they aren't...there's still no harm in being overly cautious.”

“No?” Takako asked, her voice low. “Certainly we don't need everyone watching when we travel that close? That seems...excessive.”

Anko narrowed her eyes. “I'd rather be excessive than reckless.”

Takako laughed. “That's no fun.”

“This isn't about fun. We're at war. I won't risk my comrades or the mission for the sake of fun, Takako.”

Takako snorted. “Oh, I wouldn't say it's much of a risk. We're hardly going to be passing that close to land. Our comrades deserve rest, don't they?”

“They also deserve to return home from this useless mission. I won't have my team dying for the sake of these insufferable, arrogant men.”

“I hardly think anyone's going to die on this mission. Certainly if they were, it would have happened already. The forest was full of enemies, yet here we are safe and sound.”

Anko closed her eyes—only for a brief second—rubbing the bridge of her nose. “You noticed that too, huh?”

“Oh, yes,” Takako purred. “The enemies eyes were on us, watching. They knew we were traveling through the forest, but they did nothing to stop us. Now, why do you think that is?”

Anko took a long moment to stare at the map, following the route that would take her too far from the war to be of any use. “The Daimyo aren't a priority. This really is a useless mission.”

Takako's laughter filled the room. It was not a light, cheery laugh and it sent chills down Anko's spine. “It seems we've been handed a 'get out of war free' card, Anko.”

Is that what this was? Were they really free? Safe from all harm? Anko didn't think so.

“Oh, that face,” Takako said, leaning forward. “You are wound so _tight_ , Anko. You ought to loosen up. We're safe.”

“For now,” Anko muttered. “But what happens if the war is lost? What happens if our comrades fail to defeat the enemy?”

Takako raised an eyebrow. “Your concern is heartwarming, I'm sure.” She rose, making her way around the table to stand near Anko. Her hand came down on the back of Anko's chair while the other traced the map before them, long fingers following their path to Nagi. “We're traveling far, far away from any of the danger, Anko. Let yourself relax.”

The words were practically whispered in Anko's ear, warm breath ghosting her face. She didn't see how Takako could be so unconcerned.

“Don't you care about the fate of your village? Your friends and comrades?”

Takako shrugged. “I care. But our mission is to babysit men so unimportant in the grand scheme of things—honestly, this errand of transporting the Daimyo is more of an ego trip for them. It makes them feel important, gives them the illusion of power. Don't you know that's all that matters? What are the Daimyo to shinobi? We could kill them in the blink of an eye and no one would be the wiser for it. In fact, the only reason I haven't killed the Hi Daimyo is because we're allies. Isn't that right?” She leaned closer to Anko, pressing her arm against Anko's back. The hand near her kunai twitched, but Anko kept herself from reaching for it. “The Daimyo are just figureheads, they aren't a threat, and the enemy knows it. This mission is only pretense, and we were just the lucky saps who got to play along. We'll win the war, and when we return, you and I, our comrades on this mission, we'll be welcomed home as heroes. And we'll have done ab-so-lutely _nothing._ ” She said the words slowly, like fingers dragging along Anko's back, digging in in all the right places. Anko shivered.

“I'd rather be fighting,” Anko admitted, her voice soft.

“Oh, me too,” Takako whispered, a reverent note in her voice. “But I'm sure there are other things to pass the time. For now, I think we can leave off worrying about who takes what watch, don't you?”

Anko wanted to give in, she wanted to believe that they could rest easy, but the war was still too heavy in her mind. She shook her head. “No. We can't do that. Like you said, it's an act. We have to play along. And if it turns out letting us pass through the forest was all a part of the enemies plans, I want to be ready.”

Takako sighed, pulling away from Anko and returning to her seat. “You're no fun,” she said, jutting her bottom lip out.

Anko rolled her eyes. “I'm plenty fun, but you don't need to worry about that right now.”

“Can I worry about it later, then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You can do whatever you want once we're done here.”

Takako grinned, a sharp curve of her mouth and a gleam in her eyes that reminded Anko of blood-lust. “Then I guess we'd better get to work.”

***

The dimly lit streets of Kumo's Red Light District were scattered with patrons, mostly men drunk off cheap sake looking to buy a moment of time from the prostitutes already turning in with their chosen clients for the evening.

Haruna's lip curled as one man stumbled to the ground at her feet, looking blearily up at her. His mouth curled into a smile and he held out a handful of ryo, his unfocused eyes looking her up and down. “H-hey –”

“All the money in the world would only buy your death at my hands,” she spat, shoving him aside with one foot. She ignored his threats and insults as she made her way down the street. The Red Light District did not cater to men like that, but they still found their way there to harass the inexperienced workers. It was only through force that the people of the District had been able to make it safe, allowing the workers to sell their services to safe, respectful clients and still make a living.

There would always be one or two cases where help was needed, but the people of the District knew where to get it.

At the end of the street, a tall woman stood in the doorway of the infamous Nine Clouds brothel. Her silhouette was lit by the soft glow of candlelight from within, her dark skin glistening where the light touched it; her rich red hair spilled down her back, long dark curls tightly wound and braided with flowers. Her eyes caught Haruna's as she approached, like the darkest ocean pulling her in. Nine Clouds was renowned the world over for the beautiful people who worked there and their skills in lovemaking, but none of the workers could compare to their employer and the founder of the little brothel, Oshun Yue.

Haruna stopped just within the entryway, breathing in the smell of perfume and burning candles and drinking in the sight of the woman before her.

“Haruna,” she purred, reaching out and gently caressing Haruna's scarred cheek. Yue had a fascination with the scars that littered Haruna's body, a fact she claimed was brought on by being so unmarred herself. There was, according to Yue, beauty in such harshness; Haruna did not believe this for a moment, but did not begrudge Yue those tiny pleasures.

“Yue,” she said, stepping closer, not quite crowding her space. She was close enough that she could see the light reflecting in Yue's blue eyes and count the barely noticeable wrinkles at the edge of those eyes, covered discreetly by makeup.

“It has been sometime, Haruna.”

“Has it?” she asked, knowing full well she had not paid Yue a visit since before the start of the war. “It can't have been that long.”

Yue arched an elegant eyebrow, red lips quirking. “You play dumb, but you know as well as I that it's been five months since your last visit.”

Haruna shrugged, leaning forward. “I was busy.”

The smile that had been teasing at Yue's lips spread across her face, slow and inviting. “Don't tell me after all these years you've finally fallen in love with me.”

Haruna pulled back, face relaxing into the practiced neutrality of her profession. “I've been a patron here for thirty-five years, Yue. Do you really think it would have taken me so long?”

Yue threw her head back and laughed, long and loud, the sound sending shivers down Haruna's spine. “Always so cross, Haruna. That's not why you come here. Leave behind the shinobi way of life for the night; don't bring thoughts of war with you in here.”

Haruna shook her head. “And what do you know of the war?”

Yue turned, glancing over her shoulder briefly before heading inside. “I know enough. I keep my ear to the ground—we have to in this business, don't we? How many men have tried to drive me out over the years since I opened Nine Clouds? Seventy? Eighty? There are too many risks in my line of work to be inattentive.”

Haruna followed Yue inside, closing the door behind her and slipping out of her shoes. She removed her flack jacket and hitai-ate—Yue did not allow shinobi to wear them within Nine Clouds, and though Haruna had heard her many reasons for this many times over, she'd never fully understood the rule. She followed it nonetheless.

Inside, the brothel was peaceful. Music was playing from somewhere in the house, slow and inviting; the candles that burned cast a soft glow, making it difficult to make out faces clearly unless you were up close; and the smell of flowers perfumed the air, gentle and alluring, like a warm spring day. Yue led Haruna past the main rooms and upstairs to her own private suits.

As the owner of Nine Clouds, Yue rarely took patrons of her own, allowing her employees the chance to earn more. Yue had been in the business long enough that she had very little need to worry about taking clients for herself these days, but there were a few select individuals she would always see to. Rumor had it that the Hokage was one of those lucky few, though Haruna had never been able to lay truth to this. Haruna knew there were at least a handful of others besides herself who were allowed Yue's company, but Yue was a business woman above all else and kept the identity of all her clients well hidden.

It didn't matter overmuch to Haruna, though she couldn't deny her curiosity.

“Have you been busy with the war?” Yue asked, once they were safely in her room.

“I was away for nearly two months,” Haruna responded, looking around the room. Yue had redecorated since her last visit. The bed was larger and the blankets were no longer the bright white of winter, but a brilliant gold; the rest of the room was of little consequence to Haruna, however. “I like the blankets.”

Yue chuckled. “Those 'blankets' are imported silks stuffed with goose feathers. Quite lovely, though a bit warm for the summer. Still, they were a gift from a patron and who am I to snub such fine gifts?”

“A wealthy patron,” Haruna said, glancing at Yue. She was standing before her vanity, sprinkling oil on her hands and making them glisten. Haruna kept her heart rate decidedly even as she watched Yue rub her hands together, then caress the length of her own arms, pushing long sleeves up to reveal smooth, dark skin.

“All my patrons are particularly wealthy, as you know. You are the only exception, it seems.” She laughed. “I am sentimental, after all.”

Haruna looked away, turning to the bed. She'd liked the old blankets better, she thought running a hand over the soft gold. Yue wasn't the only sentimental one.

“A shinobi's income is certainly not enough to keep you in such finery,” Haruna finally said.

Yue stepped up behind Haruna, warm body pressing against hers. “No, but I think your company more than makes up for that.”

Haruna let out a low, short laugh. “My company? You're not playing coy with me, are you?”

“I never need to play coy,” Yue said, fingers skating along Haruna's lower back, gently pulling her shirt from her trousers. “Coy is for the prostitutes in other brothels.”

“I didn't mean to offend,” Haruna teased lightly. She turned into Yue, leaning her head back and bringing their faces closer together. “Perhaps I should make it up to you.”

“Is that what you pay me for?”

Haruna swallowed. “No.”

“What do you pay me for? Refresh my memory.” She gently pushed Haruna onto the bed, crawling on top of her with all the elegance of a hunting beast. Her robes fell open, revealing an endless expanse of skin for Haruna to touch and breasts that hung like fruit, begging for Haruna's mouth to taste them.

“I pay you to pleasure me,” she said flatly.

Yue tisked. “Don't lie to me,” she purred, a hand gliding up Haruna's shirt so she could rake her fingers across her stomach. Haruna didn't rise to the bait, keeping her breathing even. Yue grinned. “I know that's not the only reason you come here.”

“What else is there?”

“Escape,” Yue whispered, hand moving lower fingers playing at the waistband of Haruna's trousers. “Isn't that what you want? An escape from your world; a chance to breathe freely for even a moment.”

Haruna sucked in a breath, fighting back the urge to moan as Yue's deft fingers made their way into her trousers, tracing teasing strokes against her. She shook her head, bringing a hand up to cup Yue's face. “A moment isn't enough,” she breathed.

Yue descended and Haruna rose up to meet her, pressing her mouth against Yue's in a desperate kiss. Haruna let herself go, forgetting to keep her heart rate in check and disregarding everything she'd ever been taught in the academy except for the most basic of things. Yue knew that no shinobi could ever fully let go, even in the throws of passion, but this was the closest Haruna would ever come to such relief and it had been far too long since the last time she had allowed herself this.

She did not want to think on what had driven her back to Yue's bed; she did not want to think on her brother's strange behavior; she did not want to entertain the ideas that had plagued her since her return to Kumo, she wanted to escape them. If her brother was truly dead—and though he still walked and talked and went about his duties as Captain of the Guard, she knew that he was not her brother as he had been when she'd left—then she would face that reality when the Raikage returned. Until then, she would bask in the pleasure that Yue was so adept at giving her and forget everything else outside the walls of the Nine Clouds.

***

“This is it,” Sakura said in hushed tones, staring at her final calculations. She glanced up, checking the board one last time. There was no doubt about it. They'd finally found the answer they'd been searching for. It had taken another week of researching and testing; another week of sleepless nights and skipped meals; another week of tension and unease, fights breaking out around her division that was too focused to take part; another week of hopes rising and being dashed. But they had finally found it.

Sakura whirled around, her eyes brimming and her smile so wide it hurt. “This is it!” she shouted to her division, startling them from their work. “We've got! We've done it!”

There was a low murmur around the room as the other divisions slowly stopped working. Heads turned to Sakura, eyes glued to her too afraid to hope but wanting desperately to nonetheless.

“Sakura?” Shizune said from the back of the labs. She had been analyzing one of the other division's diagrams, a double-helix that was coded all wrong. At least, if you wanted to successfully reanimate the dead. Sakura felt laughter bubbling in her, a desperate, carefree, triumphant laugh but she quickly pushed it down.

“We've got it, Shizune,” she said loudly. “We know how to fight them.”

The low murmur grew to a steady hum of wonder as the others in the lab began to talk, some excitedly and some skeptically. Shii's voice was the loudest among them.

“Well, damn, looks like the dogs aren't all bark after all,” he said, his voice carrying. “You sure you can back that up?”

Sakura narrowed her eyes, her triumphant smile taking on an irritated edge as she ground her teeth. “Damn sure.”

“Let's see, Sakura,” Shizune said, quickly interfering before Shii could bait Sakura further. She moved swiftly to the front, taking up a place next to Sakura and looking over her notes. Shizune's eyes scanned the page so fast Sakura wondered if she'd taken any of it in. Then Shizune looked up, staring at the board in front of their work station, blinking rapidly. She turned to Sakura, glancing back at the four other anxious members of Sakura's division. “Have you tested this?”

Sakura nodded. “Yes. Everything adds up. We need to run one more test with this new calculation, but yesterday—we were so close, Shizune! We were only off by a margin! I'm positive this will work.”

Shizune held her breath for a moment, looking over Sakura's team. She let it out in a rush, handed the paper back to Sakura, and smiled. “All right. Let's set up your final test. I think we're all ready to get out of here and put an end to this war.”

Sakura beamed as everyone around the lab rushed forward to help her team begin setting up their final experiment. Shii acknowledged Sakura with a nod as he joined the efforts. It would take all day to properly test their theory, but she knew that her work was sound. There had been so many hiccups, so many mistakes in the last week, but Sakura's team had hit a turning point. There was absolutely no way this would fail.

“Are we ready?” Shizune asked an hour and a half later. She glanced at Sakura, anxious and hopeful.

“Yes,” Sakura said, checking her notes over one last time. She took in a deep breath. “I uncovered something a week ago in our research. We're all aware that Orochimaru's research was written in code. Certain parts of it were easier to decipher than others, but what struck me was a reoccurring sequence of characters. There were several, but the first sequence I noted was this one,” she said, turning to the board to point out the character in question. “He used this to indicate sodium chloride. It would have been innocuous if it weren't for the numbers that followed. Knowing Orochimaru's end goal and how sodium chloride might help him reach that, I realized something: high quantities of sodium chloride in liquid form charged with chakra would be the simplest yet most effective way to begin the reanimation process.”

Sakura lookd around at her teammates, glancing from one eager face to the other. Everyone was hanging on her every word, and not even Shii seemed ready to doubt her.

“But sodium only effects dead cells in the short term. The sodium chloride triggers the electrical chargers that cause muscles in the body to react—the fresher the body, the better the result. But this electrical charge is on a scale far too small—no matter how much sodium chloride you have—to reanimate the dead. According to the Kazekage's firsthand account, they look and speak like the living. Orochimaru's research into the Impure World Resurrection Jutsu was quite extensive, but there were notes missing.

“And then finally it hit me: DNA. Orochimaru's notes are covered in DNA strands. He's created countless different sequences of DNA strands, most of which make complete sense scientifically. Himawari noticed that there were inconsistencies, however. Once she'd picked up on this, we began to realize that not all of the sequences would create a logical double-helix. Some sequences required a third biopolymer—a third strand—and some would even require a fourth. This mutation didn't make sense until we applied it to reanimating the dead. Orochimaru was trying to find a sequence that would allow for rapid regeneration.”

Sakura moved forward, pulling the large tub of liquid sodium chloride towards her. The dead frog beside it was not fresh in the least, but it had been preserved well. “Based on what I've told you of Orochimaru's research, if I were to alter the DNA of this frog to allow for rapid regeneration and then drop it into this chakra charged solution, the frog should theoretically reanimate. In this case, the frog would be fully alive.”

Sakura carefully set the frog into the mixture, watching in morbid fascination as its body began to twitch. She looked up at the gathered shinobi, all eyes on the twitching frog.

“The sodium chloride allows the frog's cells to react, the chakra jump starts the frogs bodily functions by returning the energy necessary for life to it, the modified DNA allows it to heal rapidly to the point that it might successfully return to the world of the living. Under normal circumstances, the Impure World Resurrection Jutsu would suffice to revive the dead, but not on such a massive scale. It would sap the user of too much chakra and effectively cancel out the jutsu altogether. But by creating a charge in a partially reanimated body, the user can access the jutsu long enough to pull the soul into the body and allow the body to replenish its own chakra supplies.

“Furthermore, by using the jutsu, the reanimated person is kept from becoming fully alive and allows the user to maintain control over the reanimated's will.”

Shizune cleared her throat. Her eyes were still on the frog, twitching away in its sodium bath. “With all this in mind, Sakura, how are we to fight the enemy?”

“It's simple really: we cut off the connection between the user and the reanimated. Once the connection is severed, the jutsu will be canceled, thus reducing the reanimated to mindless walking corpses. Then we'll be able to inject them with a serum that cancels the effects of the modified DNA which should effectively kill them permanently.”

“That sounds complicated,” Shii said, frowning. “I mean, it's a sound theory, but in practice—how effective will we be? And aren't we fighting against more than just the undead? Iemasa said that there were also shinobi in all black that couldn't be touched. How are we supposed to get at these dead guys while also having to worry about these other ones?”

Sakura raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you can't handle getting close enough to the enemy to block their chakra and inject them with a degenerative serum?”

Shii pressed his mouth in a thin line, crossing his arms over his chest. “I—no. But my point still stands. This isn't something just any shinobi can do. We'll have to form teams of medical experts and teach anyone we can how to attack the right chakra points. We don't exactly have one of these dead guys to experiment on to even see if your theory works. We could be going to our deaths if we try to put this into practice.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Sakura asked, her voice hard.

Shii sat back, letting out a sigh. “I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I just—want to be sure that you're sure about this. Because if we agree that this is it, that this is our only option, then that's it. We can't come back, we can't start over.”

Sakura nodded. “I'm absolutely sure. Without a doubt. We've tested this several times on frogs. There are variables that we can't account for, as you said, but I have absolute faith in what my team and I have come up with. This will work.”

Shizune clapped her hands together, startling the group. “All right then. I guess we'd better get that serum made, hadn't we?”

Sakura nodded. “We've already drawn up the sequence we need to create the serum. We should be able to have it done within the next few days.”

“Good work,” Shizune said, glancing to Sakura's team. “All of you have done your villages proud.” She turned to the rest of the room. “Now, let's get this serum made so we can go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Riisa's weapon](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kusari-fundo). I took liberties with her weapon and made the chain much longer and the weights incredibly heavy/large. The addition of the spikes was also an obvious use of creative license. Riisa's weapon has an incredibly large range, unlike the traditional Kusari-fundo (or manriki). I would say her manriki's range is about 110 meters (which is just over the length of an American football field for reference).
> 
> Also, Takako is based on this [canon one-off character.](http://naruto.wikia.com/wiki/Iwa_Kunoichi)


	10. Honor and Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nindo is what keeps shinobi fighting—the hope for a better future, the belief in what is just and right, the chance to prove oneself, to honor their village. But what happens when one's duty is not the honorable path? What path is a shinobi meant to take when given a mission they do not agree with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope everyone who's reading is enjoying this. The chapters will continue to be quite long from here on out, and things are really starting to come to a head. In case it wasn't clear before, the timeline of this fic does jump around with each perspective. Every characters' perspective is linear in terms of their own experiences, but events may not be told in linear order if another character's perspective is told before theirs. I hope that makes sense? Basically, "Character A experiences something on day two, but character B experiences something on day one, and character c might experience something in between day one and two", but eventually it all sort of ties together and you can kind of see where the timeline is. I have a timeline written out somewhere (but I'm pretty sure it's on my old computer which is still busted so I'll have to get that fixed so that at the end of this fic I can post it for anyone interested in seeing it). Anyway, enjoy!

The Hyuuga compound was as pristine and orderly as ever. The reconstruction after Pein's attack had gone quickly, the Hyuuga clan working like a well-oiled machine to repair their home. Neji no longer called it home and no part of him felt any longing to do so ever again. He had always been an outsider within his clan, always destined to die for the Heir, never meant to live his own fulfilled life. Stepping out on his own, living in his own apartment and making his own choices had been a relief. It felt strange to be walking through the compound now after so long away from the village. Wind Country had felt like another world and being back felt more like a dream to Neji, especially within the walls of the compound. 

His uncle's summons had come not long after his return. Neji didn't have time for this—what with his newest mission, Tenten's need to reassure herself he was alive and whole, and Lee behaving so strangely—but he could not set aside his duty as a Hyuuga. No matter how long he lived outside the compound, he would always feel bound to his clan in some way.

Hinata was still away, and hopefully alive along with the team she'd left with. Neji felt the lack of her presence strongly and wished for her swift return with such ferocity it had turned into a knot in his stomach. He was sure her sister felt much the same, even if his uncle didn't. 

Hanabi was in the courtyard practicing her forms when Neji arrived. She was graceful and deadly, a sharp contrast to Hinata's peaceful nature and it made him miss her all the more. He paused, watching Hanabi glide through her forms, then knocked on his uncle's door exactly three times in a measured rhythm. 

The door slid open on the instant.

“Neji,” his uncle said, inclining his head. “Hanabi, please join us.” 

Hiashi stepped aside, allowing Neji to enter while Hanabi followed behind, her footsteps silent. Neji kept his expression neutral as he analyzed the situation before him. There were few reasons he could think of that Hiashi would call him to the compound knowing he had an upcoming mission, and even fewer reasons he would require Hanabi to take part. Neji's heart sank as he took a seat across from his uncle, Hanabi taking up a seat next to him. 

“I promise I won't keep you long,” Hiashi said. “I understand you have another mission to prepare for, but it is imperative we discuss clan matters before you leave again.” 

“Of course,” Neji said simply, keeping his gaze on his uncle. Hanabi's presence at his side was a distraction, though. It was like sitting next to Lee when all he wanted to do was train; there was no ignoring Lee's buzzing excitement in those moments, even with all the practice Neji had. Hanabi, for all her stillness, seemed to be shouting for Neji's attention. 

“I understand you must be confused as to what we should be discussing with war so close, but it is because of the war that I have decided this matter could not wait.” Hiashi took a moment, glancing between Hanabi and Neji. He seemed to be weighing something, and that sneaking suspicion in Neji's mind nagged at him as he waited for his uncle's explanation. It was a surreal thought that left Neji lost and uncertain in ways he'd never felt before. 

“I have made a decision about the fate of our clan. You and I have spoken before, but it is time that we move forward. Poor decisions were made in the past regarding the future of this clan, and I would like to rectify them. If you would be amenable, I would have you become a member of the Main family through marriage.” 

The moment seemed to freeze around Neji. Hanabi's stillness was still too loud, Hiashi's presence seemed suddenly harsh, and the compound still seemed to be a dream he'd made up; but it was all happening just as he'd known it would. With the proposal out in the open now, Neji would be forced to make a decision and deal with the consequences. 

“I assume,” Hiashi continued, “that you understand that this is unprecedented. I do not suggest this lightly. Never before has a Branch member become part of the Main family. It will be possible to remove your seal once the contract has been made, and the seal would then pass to Hinata—”

“But Hinata-sama has improved a great deal over the years,” Neji couldn't help interrupting. He usually took a more neutral approach to his uncle, but this was not the time for neutrality. He had watched Hinata's improvement with pride; he could see her potential, not only as a shinobi, but also within the clan. She was intelligent, pragmatic, gentle, kind, and resourceful; how could Hiashi still be so ignorant of that? How could he not see that Hinata was everything he'd wanted in a successor and more? 

“Hinata has not been able to surpass Hanabi,” Hiashi said, his tone cold. “She has improved, but her skill remains unremarkable and she has left me with little choice: you and Hanabi will marry, Hinata will become a Branch family member. That is the only way.” 

Neji had no desire to marry his cousin, certainly not one as young as Hanabi. A year and a half ago, he might have accepted a marriage proposal with Hinata—they got along well, he respected her and she him. They had an understanding and a camaraderie that Neji valued greatly. He could have lived with marrying Hinata not too long ago, but things were different now.

“I—”

“Please,” Hiashi said, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. “We do not need to rush this. The war is still being waged, and Hanabi is still young. I simply ask that you think on this for the future of the clan and for your own good. You are a prodigy, and Hanabi is more than worthy to be your wife. You would bear strong heirs and the clan would prosper. This war will come to an end, and when it does, I would like to know that the future of this clan is secured.” 

Hiashi rose, looking down at Neji and Hanabi. It reminded Neji of his childhood, of when Hiashi had been imposing and intolerant of him. The memory of Hiashi burning the seal into Neji's forehead still stung even after all these years. He looked down, inclining his head in a show of respect that he did not feel. 

“If you need, you may leave. I do not want to keep you from your mission. However, you are welcome to stay and speak with Hanabi if you so desire.” 

Hiashi didn't wait for a response. He turned and left, leaving Neji alone with his younger cousin. His thoughts, normally so ordered, felt chaotic. He needed to speak with Hinata about this, but she was still away on her mission—hopefully safe, he thought more desperate than ever—and he had no idea of when she'd be back. As for Hanabi, she would most likely go along with what her father wanted, and she was so young that Neji had no desire to discuss this with her. No, he would need to wait until Hinata had returned, until then he'd keep this to himself. Only if things turned out for the worse would he need to speak with Tenten. 

“Do you want to marry me?” Hanabi's voice was like a kunai to the heart, sharp and unexpected. Despite her age, she was perceptive. Hiashi was right in that she was indeed an exceptional young shinobi. 

Neji contemplated the wall for a moment, picking over his words carefully. “I want what is best for the clan,” he said in all honesty. “I do not think this is it.” 

Hanabi rose to her feet. “Then we are agreed. I will do my best to change Father's mind. If I cannot sway him, he may refuse to give you an option in the end. I hope you know that.” 

Neji inclined his head. “I was aware of the possibility. Yes.” 

Hanabi bowed. “Excuse me. I must return to my training.” 

Neji watched her go, surprised and more than a little grateful. It was a relief to know that he would have both Hinata and Hanabi on his side in this matter, and hopefully his uncle would see wisdom before long. 

***

Sayuu scanned the halls of the hospital, searching out the familiar figure of Temari. The Kazekage's siblings had essentially been living in the hospital since they'd taken up in Konoha. Sayuu hoped she would find Temari on her own for a change, or at least away from the Kazekage. 

Her late night report to the council had weighed heavily on her mind for the past thirty-six hours and she could see no other alternative but to confess her crimes. She would most likely be removed from the line of duty, exiled to the life of a civilian. Her atonement would come at a heavy price, and it was the least cowardly option available to her. Moreover, the council's reaction had left her even more uneasy. She had gone to them out of concern for her people and the well-being of their village; but the council members had not looked concerned. They had done a poor job of masking the triumph in their eyes; they were all power-hungry old men, still cowering in fear of the Kazekage. 

Every shinobi in Suna had feared the child the Kazekage had been; it had been the only way to stay alive back then. The ANBU guards had been the most fearful, always wary of a summons from the Yondaime. His requests for private meetings had numbered six, and after each there had been a death at Gaara's hands. ANBU had been the first to learn how capable of killing Gaara of the Desert was. Sayuu had not forgotten that lesson, even after all these years. 

But she had forgotten the person her Kazekag had become, and in doing so she had betrayed him. 

Sayuu spotted Temari's head of spiky blonde hair, followed by Kankurou's familiar black hood. They were heading away from her, moving down the hall and towards the exit, talking quietly to one another. Sayuu read their lips, catching a few words whenever their mouths were in her sight—“bowl-cut” and “weird” was the most common thing out of Kankurou's mouth that she caught, with Temari repeating “friend” several times. Sayuu's mind automatically began to offer up scenarios as to what they were discussing. She forced herself back to the matter at hand, walking more briskly, keeping her expression as neutral and relaxed as possible. She had to remind herself to keep from pressing her mouth into a thin line several times as she followed her targets. She felt slightly desperate—desperate to ease her guilt, desperate to warn the Kazekage, desperate to atone—but she had to keep calm. She was an ANBU of Suna, after all. 

The people in the halls seemed to part for her, eyes following after her as she made her way after the Kazekage's siblings. 

Sayuu picked up her pace as they neared the exit, doing her best to move quickly without running. There was a brief moment when she was sure they would leave and she would lose her nerve, would fall victim to the cowardice that had eaten at her, but then Temari slowed, turning around to catch her eye. Sayuu stopped before them, bowing. 

“Temari, Kankurou,” she said straightening. “I'm sorry to bother you, but I needed to speak with you urgently.” 

Temari gave Sayuu a side-long look, her expression flat and her resemblance to Gaara coming into stark focus as she remained carefully emotionless. Kankurou, on the other hand, raised a brow, quirking his mouth. “Yeah, what's up?” 

“I would like to speak in private. The matter is...delicate.” 

Temari nodded. “Come with us. We'll go to our hotel.” 

The three left the hospital in silence, Temari's expression unwavering in its neutrality and Kankurou casting looks back at Sayuu every so often. The walk to their hotel took longer than Sayuu would have liked, but they moved quickly enough through the crowded streets of Konoha. Sayuu was sure that no one of any importance had seen them. If the council members saw her with the Kazekage's siblings, it would certainly raise some eyebrows. 

Just before their hotel Temari's steps faltered and she glanced back the way they'd come. Sayuu kept her reactions controlled, but her nerves made her hands twitch. “Is something wrong?” 

Temari shook her head, her cheeks a faint pink. “No, it's nothing. Come on.” 

Once inside, Temari locked the doors behind her before turning to Sayuu. “All right. Talk.” 

Sayuu felt a moments irritation, but quickly suppressed it. Temari had good reason to be sure of herself—she was one of Suna's strongest shinobi and an excellent diplomat—but she was still a Jounin and not even half Sayuu's age. Sometimes she thought the Kazekage's siblings let his position get to their heads. 

She shook off her irritation, reminding herself that Temari's status was by default higher than hers, and more so Temari had proven herself worthy of such status. “I have come to confess that I have committed acts that could be deemed treasonous: upon our return, I went to the council and reported the Kazekage's outburst. I did so out of concern for the safety of our people—”

Temari slammed her fist against the wall, cutting Sayuu off. 

Silence stretched for long moments as the pieces of the wall crumbled around Temari's fist. Her gaze was all cold, hard anger; before now, Sayuu had never considered that Temari of the Fan might one day kill her, but in that moment she saw it clear as day: Temari would kill her and she would accept that death for she had brought it about herself. 

Kankurou put a hand on Temari's shoulder, and Sayuu had a moment to wonder if he were qualified to be a Jounin before he spoke, his voice hard and steady. “Keep it together,” he said, softly. 

“Please,” Sayuu spoke again, dropping her gaze and bowing. “I have come to you in penance and in the hope that this warning will ensure the council does not take action against the Kazekage. I was misguided, I know, but I feared for the safety of our people when I made the call.” 

“You're a fool,” Temari said, soft and dangerous. “I'd kill you myself, but that's not how we do things in Suna. Not anymore. But what you've done—” Temari stopped herself, jerking her shoulder from Kankurou's grasp. “We can't afford to worry Gaara,” she said, looking to Kankurou. “He's got enough on his plate with the war and his injuries.” 

“If I may,” Sayuu interjected. “What I have done is unforgivable. I am prepared to forfeit my position as a shinobi and exile myself, and I am even prepared to offer up my life in penance; but if there is anything I can do to rectify this, I would do so.” 

Temari and Kankurou stared at her, the anger gone from their faces, replaced by the blank mask of shinobi. 

“And what exactly would you do?” Temari asked.

“The council suggested that acting on my report now would be foolish. Suna is currently weak and they know we need the Kazekage if we are ever to reclaim our home. I don not believe the council is willing to attempt anything under the circumstances. They need him to continue to be the symbol our people look to. They said that if the Kazekage survives the war then they would take action, which means we have time—how much I can only guess, but we do have time.” 

“And what good is time to us now?” Temari snapped. “The council has been made aware, you filed a report—”

“And I can just as easily steal that report.” 

Temari opened her mouth to retort but stopped short. She watched Sayuu, her eyes narrowed and her mouth pressed in a thin line. 

“Why would you do that?” Kankurou asked. 

“It is my duty to protect the Kazekage. I lost sight of that—I allowed myself to fear the monster he once was and forgot the man he has become. Therefore, it is my responsibility to right this wrong. I have betrayed him and I can never take that back, but I can at least rectify this mistake before it goes any farther.” 

Temari turned, running a hand down her face. “The council will most likely have made copies, you know. And if the report goes missing, they'll call you in to refile it. What then?” 

“I will lie.” 

“What will that accomplish? All they need to do is ask someone else who was there—Konoha shinobi won't know any better: Rock Lee is incapable of lying and Hyuuga Neji has already proven he distrusts Gaara. Even if we spoke with your teammates, we can't be sure that the Konoha shinobi who accompanied us will keep quiet.” 

Sayuu took in a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. She had been a shinobi for thirty-six years, a Jounin for thirty of those, and ANBU for twenty-five; she had learned much about the inner workings of Suna's council through careful observation, and she could read each council member like an open book—save perhaps Baki. Though she had only observations to go on, she was sure that stealing her report and lying were their best options. If they were truly lucky, the council, in their desperation to find proof of the Kazekage's instability, would slip up and it would be easy to claim that they were filing false reports against him. Though Sayuu would take full responsibility and face the consequences of her actions, the blame could publicly fall on the council and they too would face the consequences for their own insubordination. 

It was a good plan, Sayuu thought. 

“The council,” she said after a beat, “won't ask Konoha shinobi. They would not want to appear unorganized, and they would not want Konoha shinobi to be made aware of their feelings towards the Kazekage. I fully believe we could successfully destroy all evidence of the Kazekage's outburst in the desert.” 

“And what of your treason?” 

“As I said, I will take full responsibility. I simply ask that I be able to right this wrong before my sentence is passed.” 

Kankurou shook his head, glancing back at Temari. “I dunno, sis. I'm not convinced it'll work. That council is full of scum. Only one keepin' 'em in line is Baki, and he's not exactly comin' back any time soon.” 

“No, he's not.” Temari turned back to them, her face set. “We have no other choice. This plan of yours, if it doesn't work, I hope you know that war or no, I will not hesitate to kill you.” 

“I understand,” Sayuu said, bowing again. “It is no less than I deserve. But I promise, I will not fail.” 

“You'll forgive me for not trusting in your promises,” Temari bit off. “Now leave us. I don't want to see you again until you've retrieved that scroll.” 

“Excuse me,” Sayuu said, and departed in a flash, gone before Kankurou or Temari could blink. 

She had her mission. Now all she had to do was ensure that the pieces all fell into place as she'd envisioned. If not, then even taking her own life would not restore her honor and she would go to her grave with the knowledge that the Kazekage's undoing had been at her hand. 

***

A warm and gentle breeze blew through her cell, seeping into her bones and waking her. Yua had been fading between life and the deep darkness of death for two days now. She did not know how much longer she had, but in those dreams between life and death she had seen another way, she had seen her escape. 

She did not believe in prophecy or fate. She believed in the shinobi way, she believed in the Kazekage, and she believed that he would save Suna from this evil—but he would need her help in the end. Yua had long ago accepted her death, locked away in a dark cell as a prisoner in her own village. It was not the way she'd wanted to die, but she had known deep in her gut that eventually her body would give out or Deidara would bore of her and kill her. Eventually, death would find her, and her only fear was of being brought back to fight against her own people. 

Somehow, with death so close, she found new strength. She still felt the edges of those dreams, as though she weren't quite awake, and it gave her the confidence to pull herself bodily from the floor onto shaking legs—her right leg nearly gave out, but she managed to stand her ground leaning heavily against the wall. Matsuo hadn't bothered to chain her when he'd returned her to her cell after her last visit to Deidara, which was lucky because she would not have had the strength to break chains. 

The cell was dark, windowless, with only a large metal door as a means of escape. There were no slots for food in the door, only a tiny window for guards to peer through to ensure their captive was behaving. Yua did not plan to do any such thing. 

Closing her eyes, she evaluated her condition: broken leg, internal bleeding, a head injury, bruised ribs, and a gash down her right arm. It would be difficult, but not impossible to fight; the real challenge was killing her enemies. The other challenge was hoping that someone would come by soon to take her from her prison. It had to have been at least three days since the last time Deidara had called for her, and he rarely took longer than five to demand another visit determined as he was to break her. 

She felt a smile creep onto her face despite herself. Deidara did not understand Suna's people in the least. If he did, he would know that Yua would not be broken. 

_Break my body all you want, but you will never have my soul,_ she thought. 

Outside, Yua heard the heavy footfalls of an approaching guard. They were familiar footfalls; it was the heavy stomping of someone large and uncaring of stealth approaching. Yua slid down the wall, stretching her broken leg out before her carefully. Before she could properly settle and feign unconsciousness the door to her cell opened, the light pouring in from the corridor beyond was dim but blinding to her unaccustomed eyes. A shadow passed, blocking the light as Matsuo's large frame filled the doorway. 

“You're awake,” he said. His voice was steady, but his words held just a hint of shock. “I thought for sure you'd—how are you feeling?” 

Yua blinked. “A-are you...yourself?” 

Matsuo glanced down the corridor, the action more than enough confirmation for Yua, though she knew she could not trust he would be himself for long. Matsuo entered the cell, approaching her cautiously. 

“I brought medical supplies. It's not much, but it'll help.” 

Yua snorted. “Help what? I'm dying, Matsuo. You know that, so why bother?” 

In the light from the corridor, Yua could see Matsuo's face harden, his nostrils flaring. “Because this is all I _can_ do. Months of being forced to watch while you're tortured, forced to kill my own people—I should have stayed dead, but these bastards have got me doing their dirty work. I've had to wash the blood of my friends from my hands too many times since I died. If you're brother knew I'd done nothing to help—” He broke off, looking away. “This is the least I can do for you. It's not much, but it's all I have left.” 

Yua eyed him steadily. She could feel the fog of death creeping up on her again, her strength would not last without aid, but how much longer could she survive? Long enough to kill Deidara and avenge herself, her village, her Kazekage? Was she even strong enough to try taking him on? She should escape, like in her dreams. Fighting against him would only get her killed faster. 

“What did you bring?” she asked, her voice weak. “I-I'm not going to last much longer.” 

Matsuo pressed his mouth into a thin line, digging into his weapons pouch. “Adrenaline, bandages, disinfectant, some pain killers, a few soldier pills, and sutures. At the very least, I can stitch up that arm with this.” 

Yua eyed the adrenaline in Matsuo's hand, ignoring everything else. It was a small vial, but it would be enough. “I can use this to escape.” 

Matsuo's eyes widened just a fraction. “Are you mad? You're not strong enough for that!” 

Yua glared up at him. “I have no intention of dying here, Matsuo. I need to leave, I need to get to the Kazekage. I won't let that monster touch me again.” 

Matsuo swallowed. “If I could kill him—kill him for good, I'd do it. But I've only just figured out how to break the hold whoever's controlling us has on me. Myself and a few others, we fought against it for long enough, I think. Or maybe whoever's doing this is weak. The last time I took you to him, afterwards, when I was bringing you back—I broke out of it. I was me again, but I—I'm not enough. None of us are. How could you possibly escape?” 

“You can help me. Pretend you're taking me to him, lead me someplace where I can slip out. The tunnels—”

“Were destroyed when my teammates escaped. There's no way—unless...” Matsuo looked back over his shoulders. “The monument. There's a second escape tunnel in one of the eyes—ANBU are the only ones who know about it, and it's not on file so he wouldn't even know to station people up there. If I can get you up there, you can escape.” 

Yua nodded. “Who else is free? Who else has returned to themselves?” 

“It's only five of us: me, Ren, Takka, Eri, and Momo. That's hardly enough to get you out.” 

“No, but it's enough to create a distraction, isn't it?” 

Matsuo frowned. “I—yeah, we could do something like that.” He was silent for a moment, thinking, and then his dark eyes lit up. “I've heard things—the mercenaries talking in whispers about the dead, how they'd overtake us if something went wrong, if we betrayed them, and Deidara found out. He nearly killed them, I think. Sent half of them to the border for patrol because he didn't trust them—it's because they knew. They knew how to kill us.” 

Yua leaned forward so fast her head spun. She blinked black spots from her vision, reaching out a hand to steady herself against Matsuo. “What? What is it?” 

“Fire.” 

Yua felt a laugh bubble up inside of her. It was so simple. How many stories had she heard as a child from Matsuo, stories he'd been taught by his grandmother who'd come from one of the tribes in the desert. She felt like such a fool. “Of course,” she breathed, giddy and delirious. “I can't believe I didn't think of it before.” 

“I'll get the others to start a fire and I'll take you to the wall. I can get you out. You can go to the Kazekage, tell him how to kill them, tell him—tell him that his people, all of us, will fight for him still.” 

“I promise,” Yua said, her eyes prickling. “I won't die until I've reached the Kazekage.” 

Matsuo nodded, grinning. He reached out a hand, brushing aside a strand of Yua's hair. “It will be good to fight for Suna again,” he whispered. “Thank you.” 

Yua shook her head once. “Don't thank me. Just get me out of here.” 

***

The dumplings were still steaming when Lee arrived at the hospital—he'd made it from his apartment to the Kazekage's room in just over five minutes, which by his standards was slow, but he hadn't actually been trying, he reasoned, so he'd only do a thousand crunches in penance not the five thousand he'd initially planned.

Besides, he had a mission to pack for, even if he wasn't particularly thrilled about it. After all, a mission was a mission; he couldn't shirk his responsibilities just because he disagreed with the Hokage. In fact, it was more of a reason he shouldn't allow himself distractions; he might start to think on all the reasons he did not approve of this mission and then he might give less than one-hundred and ten percent which could get himself or, even worse, one of his teammates hurt. 

With effort, Lee forced his doubts to the back of his mind, ignoring the whisper of them as he knocked on the Kazekage's door. A distraction was all he needed to keep his mind from wandering. 

The door to the Kazekage's hospital slid room open just enough for a familiar head of spiky blonde hair to poke from within. Temari stared at Lee, her gaze steady and one eyebrow raised. Lee fidgeted, then extended his box of dumplings. 

“I brought these for the Kazekage. I thought they might help him on the road to recovery!” 

There was a snort behind Temari, followed by a laugh. The corner of Temari's mouth twitched. “Come on in then,” she said, pulling the door wide. Lee entered, glancing to the Kazekage's bed where Gaara sat propped up against so many pillows it was a wonder there were any left in the hospital. The pillows were too soft though and the Kazekage's weight was causing them to fold inward, surrounding him in a cloud of soft white, bulging fabric. His expression was the carefully composed mask Lee had learned to recognize on their long mission: the Kazekage was in pain and trying to hide it. 

Lee knew all about pain; he knew about controlling it, overcoming it, coping with it when it was mind-numbing. He did not know, however, how to heal it. Everything Lee had ever known about pain had conditioned him to think of pain as an obstacle to overcome with the same fierce determination he'd overcome his disability. Being unable to mold chakra had been one of the greatest pains in Lee's life—his first real pain—and now second only to the fear that his dream of becoming a splendid ninja had been crushed along with his arm and leg all those years ago. 

The memory of that time was strange to ponder standing awkwardly in the Kazekage's hospital room, his brother and sister giving Lee curious looks as he approached the Kazekage's bed. Lee had never held a grudge against Gaara—after all, Lee had quite literally beat the Kazekage into the ground during their match and, moreover, Lee believed that all was fair game in trying to prove oneself. Shinobi knew that even a friendly match could turn deadly, just like even a simple and seemingly harmless mission could get you killed. 

Lee smiled, extending the box of dumplings. “Please accept these, Kazekage-sama. They seemed to help you on our mission and so I have made you a fresh batch.” 

Gaara stared at the box before him, the tension around his eyes relaxing into surprise for a brief moment. He glanced up at Lee. “How many did you make?” 

Lee laughed nervously. “Well, I may have gone overboard,” he admitted, fidgeting with the lid of the box. The box in question was several stacked bento boxes filled with exactly fifty dumplings. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; in Lee's experience, anything less than fifty was simply not enough to satisfy hunger, and while the dumplings were meant to strengthen one's body, they were primarily a source of food on long missions and Lee had a large appetite. 

The Kazekage took the box from Lee with shaking hands. Lee could feel Temari watching from behind and could see Kankurou's eyes on them from his periphery. They had all seen Gaara's hands shaking.

“Thank you, Lee,” the Kazekage said. 

Lee beamed. “It was the least I could do!” 

Gaara glanced up at him, brow knitted together. “It's not your responsibility to ensure I recover.” 

“But that does not stop me from being concerned,” Lee said earnestly. “You pushed yourself very hard in the desert, Kazekage-sama. I understand it was necessary, but your health is important too, and since these seemed to help you so much I thought I would bring you some.” 

Kankurou snorted. “Some? How many _did_ you make, Lee?” 

“...fifty,” he admitted, sheepishly. 

Kankurou shook his head. “Figures.” 

“Thank you, Lee,” Temari said, elbowing Kankurou. “That's really nice of you.” 

Lee grinned. “It was nothing really. I had to make some for my own mission anyway!” 

He realized the moment he'd said it that he shouldn't have. The Kazekage's vocal disagreement with the Hokage had spread rapidly throughout the village, and in just two days tension had risen between Konoha citizens and their Suna guests. 

“Right,” Kankurou drawled. “That mission of yours. Forgot all about that.” 

Lee had the funny feeling that his mission was all the Kazekage and his siblings had talked about since their return. Somehow, his attempts at distraction had failed utterly. 

“Are preparations going well?” Temari asked, her tone far too light. 

“They are, though that is really all I can say. I cannot discuss my mission, you know,” he said sternly. 

Temari raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. Silly me.” 

“Temari, Kankurou,” Gaara said, drawing everyone's gaze. He was staring down at the large box of dumplings, his fingers going white at the tips just under the nail as though he were trying to break the box. He glanced up at his siblings, then to the door. 

Kankurou opened his mouth, but Temari beat him to it. “We're hungry. Excuse us, Lee.” 

Lee blinked as Temari dragged a confused Kankurou from the room. The door closing behind them was ominous to Lee and he glanced warily back to the Kazekage. 

Gaara let out a slow breath, his muscles relaxing into the pillows which gave just a bit more so that they were now crowding even closer to the Kazekage's face and his shoulders had completely disappeared within their depths. His expression when he met Lee's gaze was as inscrutable as it ever was, but there was more tension in that blank mask than before. 

“Take a seat,” Gaara said, his voice clipped. It was not a request, it was an order. Lee remembered the way the Kazekage had faced him out in the desert and ordered Lee to abandon his teammates should they be discovered; he felt a sinking sense of dread as he complied, taking up a seat at Gaara's bedside. 

Gaara removed the lid from the top box and picked up one of the dumplings. “I want to know about the mission, Lee. I'm sure you've gathered that much.” 

Lee stiffened. “I cannot tell you anything about it, Kazekage-sama. Please, it is confidential. If I told you about it that would be treason.” 

“A heavy infraction for informing an allied Kage of a mission so pivotal to the war effort,” Gaara commented lightly before taking a bite of the dumpling. “These taste better fresh,” he added. “Still strange.” 

Lee frowned. “I am sorry that I could not improve upon the flavor.” 

“Nevermind,” Gaara said as he set the rest of the dumpling down. The now familiar hiss of Gaara's sand swirled at Lee's feet, forming a tendril that rose to the bed and then lifted the box from Gaara's lap. Lee watched as the food was set aside on the bedside table. 

“Does it hurt to move that much?” he asked, forgetting his manners. 

Gaara glanced at him. “Yes.” 

Lee was surprised by the Kazekage's candor. In the desert, Gaara had been so determined to appear strong and in good health that he had been prepared for the Kazeakge to lie. While Lee no longer needed to pry into the Kazekage's well-being for the sake of a mission he could not deny the concern he felt. After all, not only had he risked his life to save the Kazekage's, but Lee had seen what a good person Gaara had become. He was a good leader, a strong shinobi, and a caring brother—Lee did not want to see anyone in pain, least of all someone like the Kazekage. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He knew there wasn't—if the medics couldn't do anything for Gaara, there was certainly nothing Lee could do—but he felt useless sitting at the Kazekage's bedside with only dumplings to offer him.

“Distract me,” Gaara said simply. 

Lee studied the Kazekage's expression, surprised by the request and just a bit pleased that the Kazekage wanted his company. He racked his brain for a suitable distraction, coming back to the very thing he'd been trying to avoid. 

“I do not want to go on my mission,” he said in a small voice. He hadn't said it out loud yet, not to Neji or Tenten or even Gai-sensei; he'd thought it enough times, then berated himself and forced those thoughts down by doing a thousand push-ups or two-thousand squats, but he hadn't admitted it openly until now. 

Gaara's gaze flicked to his, his green eyes suddenly alert. “Don't you want Naruto to come home?” 

Lee shook his head, then stopped, shrugging. “I—it is not that I do not want him to come home, but I—” He glanced back at the door, biting his lip. “I really should not be saying this. It is not right for me to disagree with the Hokage.” 

“I am the only one present to hear you do so, Lee. I can assure you that this will not leave this room.” 

Lee looked back at Gaara, meeting his gaze. He had already crossed a line in speaking his feelings about this mission aloud—and to another Kage, no less—did it really matter if he continued now? “I—I really should not. The Hokage—I cannot go against her wishes.” 

“But you do not agree with them.” 

“No, but I am a shinobi of Konoha. It is not my place to agree or disagree. I should not be questioning her leadership, let alone telling another Kage this. It is—disrespectful.”

“You're allowed to have your own opinions, Lee. I'm sure even the Hokage would agree with that.” 

Lee hesitated. “I—suppose, but it feels wrong.” 

“The mission? Or telling me about it?” 

“Both,” Lee said, letting out a breathy laugh. “I do not know what feels worse: that I do not trust my Hokage's wisdom or that I want to tell you about it.” 

Gaara was silent, watching Lee intently, making him fidget. He'd spent over a month straight in the Kazekage's company and yet Lee was still not used to being stared at so intensely; he wondered if Gaara understood that his habit of staring made Lee nervous. He always felt as though the Kazekage were peeling back layers of his skin, trying to decipher something about him that he never seemed to quite grasp. Most shinobi didn't look at Lee like that; sure they might stare at his legwarmers in horror, but most of the time they took one look at Lee and seemed to think that was all they needed to know about him: loud, hot-blooded, and honest to a fault, but still a capable shinobi (though he often still had to prove his capabilities to those unfamiliar with him). Gaara always seemed to be looking for more though, and Lee still couldn't figure out what that was. 

“Why don't you trust Tsunade?” 

Lee opened his mouth to protest the informality, but then realised that it was hardly misplaced. Gaara was, despite his years, the Hokage's equal; he had earned the right to call her by her given name. Lee shook himself. “It is...hard to explain, but I suppose it is because she does not have faith in us—the rest of us, I mean. Naruto-kun is very strong, of course, but he is only one person. How can she put all of her faith in him when there are so many of us here fighting to win the war? Konoha is still strong, still full of shinobi willing to fight—and we have so many strong allies. Yet she puts all her faith in Naruto-kun. I just...do not understand.” 

“She's desperate,” Gaara said softly. “Tsunade is not a bad leader, but this war has taken a great toll on all of us. Konoha is still weak, Suna has been destroyed—Tsunade just wants to see an end to it all.” 

“So do you and you have not lost faith in your people.” 

Gaara blinked, looking down at his hands. “My people...no, I—I trust that we will reclaim Suna and win the war. I know that my people will fight for that future.” 

“Then why has Hokage-sama lost that faith?” Lee asked. “Why does she think one person alone can save us?” 

“I do not know, Lee. I am not Tsunade. I can only say that her desperation has blinded her to the reality at hand. If you succeed in your mission and bring Naruto home, then I fear the worst. Naruto and Killer B are what Madara needs to accomplish his goals; by bringing them out we play into the enemy's hand. He'll have the perfect opportunity to take what he wants from us and we may be powerless to stop it.” 

They fell silent. Lee stared at Gaara's profile, trying to imagine what he had not dared to imagine before: Madara winning the war. Could this mission really lead them to such a future? Lee's resolve wavered; perhaps he should speak with the Hokage, tell her his doubts. Maybe she would listen to one of her own shinobi. 

“I should not have said so much,” Gaara said, breaking Lee from his thoughts. “Do not let this cloud your judgment, Lee. You need to be on guard for your mission. Much as I do not want to see Naruto return for this war, if you fail it will likely mean your death and that is something I would like to see even less.” 

Lee, despite all his doubts and fears, felt warm at the thought. He beamed at Gaara, giving him a thumbs up. “I promise I will return from my mission alive and in good health, Kazekage-sama! That is a Nice Guy Promise, so you can rest assured that I will come back.” 

Gaarra hummed, the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. Lee did not know if others would count that as a smile, but he certainly did. He hoped that after this war the Kazekage and his people would have more reasons to smile. 

“That is a very big thing to promise, Lee. But I have never known you to break a promise so I will hold you to it.” 

Lee nodded, rising from his seat. “When I get back I hope that I find you are in better health. I really should be going now, Kazekage-sama. Please rest and do not exert yourself too much.” 

Gaara inclined his head. “Take care on your mission, Lee.” 

Lee smiled, making his way to the door. “I will do my utmost best, Kazekage-sama.” 

“Then I am sure you will be fine.” 

***

A strange presence had taken hold of her—constricting her unbeating heart and stiffening her limbs. It was strong, close, and left a sour taste in her mouth like acid. Izumi didn't know what it was, but it was so like the invisible hands that controlled her that she wondered if perhaps the one behind her continued existence had discovered their plans. 

If that were the case, then she had truly failed her village. She did not think she could fight against this force that crept up on her with each passing hour. Trapped as she was in this non-life, forced to carry out the enemy's orders in Takigakure, Izumi could no longer see the hope that she'd once believed in; if this force grew any stronger, she knew she would be lost to it for good. 

Her fears did not abate as days turned to weeks turned to a month and then she had almost been in Takigakure for two, the living half of her team unaware that they were leading their village to ruin while the other half did their best to work with Shibuki and his people to find ways of sabotaging the enemy. Izumi was almost grateful to be dead, because it was endless, unforgiving work and she would have needed sleep eventually were she still alive.

Even with their plans laid out, traps within traps and so much subterfuge it gave her a headache, Izumi's hopes began to wane. The memories of her little sister's smiling face became fuzzy around the edges. She started to doubt she had a sister at all. 

And then he arrived. 

It was mind numbing to be so close to the one who controlled her. She wanted to do exactly as he said, everything he said, no matter what it was. He was her master, he was her god. The longer he remained, the more she would lose herself; she felt her soul being pushed into a dark corner of her mind, felt her memories burn up like rice paper—soon she would no longer be Izumi. 

It was Shibuki who saved her from the abyss she was falling into. 

“You look lost,” he said to her, when they were alone, late in the night. The few living had gone to bed, satisfied with the day's work. Izumi's other teammates feigned sleep as they had every night since their deaths—how long had it been now? Two months? Three? No, it couldn't have been three. Her sister, the one she'd dreamed up, had had her birthday just before Izumi's death. She was certain that it couldn't have been three months. 

Izumi stared into Shibuki's face and wondered how he could retain so much of himself. He seemed so sure, so much more alive than she felt. How did he do that? 

“I feel him,” she said, her voice wavering. “His hands on my soul like a vice. I—I do not think I will be of much use to you any longer. I fear I may even be our downfall.” 

Shibuki raised an eyebrow and hummed. “That's unfortunate. You're my strongest ally here. Perhaps that is why you feel him so keenly? He must know you are fighting against his hold.” 

Izumi shook her head. “If that were true you would feel it too.” 

Shibuki laughed. “You give me too much credit. I am not so strong; the enemy knows this and that is why I will not be falling victim to his hold. He is a fool to trust his powers so readily, Izumi.” 

A part of her wanted to believe him, but it felt so distant that she wasn't sure the desire was real. 

“In any case,” Shibuki said when she was silent too long. “I have news. It seems our, ah, hosts have changed their plans. They feel threatened. Apparently, Kusagakure was attacked not too long ago. They had thought there were no survivors, but as it turns out there were, and the other villages now know of Kusagakure's destruction. It would be of no consequence, however, this past month or so, Kusa has been working with your fellow Iwa shinobi. It seems the circumstances were much the same as here, only they were discovered. Kimimaro has been ordered to advance towards Iwagakure.” 

Something in Izumi erupted, like dying embers given new kindling. Her sister's smile was suddenly crystal clear, so sharp in her mind she wanted to cry. The memories had not all gone from her; she still had life and desires—one above all others: she would protect her village at all costs. 

“Those bastards. We're supposed to remain here until the final assault! We can't—if we attack Iwa now they'll be destroyed!” 

Shibuki smiled. “You're not as weak as you think, Izumi. But yes, you're right. The Tsuchikage will not be able to stop an assault. We've been left with no other options, it seems. Could you find a way to send word to your village?” 

Izumi's fire wavered. “I—Yes. I will find a way. I'll warn the Tsuchikage.” 

“Good. Inform your teammates as soon as you can. I will see what other information I can uncover about their plans.” Shibuki inclined his head, turning to leave but Izumi's hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Thank you,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I do not think I could have lasted much longer without you.” 

Shibuki smiled, placing a hand over hers. “Mighty shinobi are not without their weaknesses. I trust you will not let yours get the better of you again, though.” 

Izumi nodded. “No, I won't.” 

“Good. Then I will see you tomorrow, and then we shall begin putting our plans into action.” 

***

Weak as she was, getting out of her cell was easy. There were no guards in their path, and the handful of guards on patrol around the perimeter of the holding cells didn't notice them as they made their way through the shadows. It wasn't until they'd reached the demolished hospital that things went south. An alarm went off behind them, a light flashing from the top of the prison. 

Matsuo grabbed Yua, lifting her into his arms and taking to the rooftops. “The others and I keep to the western residential district, close to the valley walls,” he told her. “We'll get there faster this way.” 

Yua nodded, arms wrapped around Matsuo's thick neck. Where her skin touched his goose flesh rose, a chill running through her. He felt strange: cold as ice, hard as rock, and brittle like rice paper. She tried not to look too closely at his once rich brown skin now dull and grey, but it wasn't easy. If she didn't look at him closely, she could believe he was alive; she could almost believe that he would escape with her and she would see her brother smile again. 

But this close to him, with her bare arms touching his cold, dry skin there was no chance of entertaining such notions. 

Matsuo was dead and she was sure that once she died she would join him in this half-life. 

Below, mercenaries ran past them: rouge shinobi and samurai, bandits, murderers, and any other person low enough to join Madara's forces ran towards the prison compound. None of them noticed the two ANBU as they raced across the rooftops of Suna. 

It was almost too easy. After the fall of Suna, escaping should have been more difficult. 

“They weren't prepared for this,” Yua whispered. “They didn't think anyone would try to escape.” 

Matsuo grunted. “They underestimate Suna kunoichi.” 

Yua glanced up into Matsuo's face. He was grinning—it wasn't happy and it wasn't quite his usual grin, but it was a smile nonetheless. She remembered the first time she'd seen Matsuo smile, a memory from another life now: they'd been teammates in their Genin days and he'd always been determinedly tough. Matsuo didn't smile, didn't laugh, didn't joke. He'd been determined to become a great warrior, to prove himself. She hadn't understood why he'd thought people would doubt him; he'd always been big for his age, and his strength was legendary. It amazed her that Matsuo still hadn't been given a title. 

And now he never would she realized, her heart sinking. 

“I'll tell them you saved me,” she whispered. “I'll make the Kazekage give you a title.” 

Matsuo snorted. “Don't bother. I'm not gonna be around to enjoy it.” 

“But—it's what you wanted.” 

Matsuo shook his head. “It wasn't.” 

Yua didn't know what to say to that, and talking had made her vision swim, so she remained silent, her mind traveling back to the memory of the first smile she'd ever seen on his face. 

They were seventeen and Matsuo had just been made Jounin, the first of their team. When Matsuo had shown up at her house, her brother, Yao, had joined them, grinning at Matsuo as though he'd put the sun in the sky. Matsuo had looked at Yao and smiled back, as though there hadn't been anyone else in the room. 

She'd known then why Matsuo had been so determined to prove himself. 

Seven years later, Matsuo had become more relaxed. He'd started smiling more—though still not often—and joking. He had a wicked sense of humor that made Yao laugh with everything he had. It was something she'd taken for granted, but here in this moment, the way Matsuo had made her brother laugh felt like the most important thing in the world. 

They touched down in an alley just beyond the Theatre District, at the edge of the Residential District. Matsuo carried her through the alley, moving quickly, turning sharply down another alley and then another. Yua was dizzy by the time they stopped at a ruined home not far from the walls of the valley. 

“Here,” he said, setting her down. “Are you good to walk?” 

Yua nodded. “I'm fine,” she said, even as the fog thickened in her mind. “I just—need to rest.” 

Matsuo nodded. “Come on. I can't offer you any food—there isn't anything. We don't exactly need to eat.” 

Yua shook her head. “I doubt I could eat right now. I'll be sure to find cacti right away, though,” she added at the look Matsuo shot her. “I won't die until I've seen the Kazekage.” 

Matsuo didn't respond. His eyes were hidden in shadow, but his jaw was clenched tight, as though he were fighting against the need to speak. Yua's heart stuttered in her chest before she could get it under control. 

“Ma-Matsuo?” 

He jerked, shaking his head. “I'm fine. I just—if you die, tell them to burn your body. I don't want you coming back, not like this. And Yao would be—” He broke off. “Just tell them to burn your body. If there's nothing left of you, I don't think they can bring you back.” 

Yua nodded. “I'll tell them.” 

Matsuo turned away, apparently satisfied. She followed after him, moving closer to the run down house at a slow hobble. The door seemed to be wedged into its frame, the windows were shattered, there were dark spots in the stone—blood, Yua realised—and the roof had collapsed inward. It was amazing the house was still standing. 

They went around back, Matsuo glancing back at Yua every so often. His expression was blank, but Yua knew him well enough to know he was concerned. 

“I'm not going to drop dead,” she said. “You should know me better than that.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, you're too stubborn to drop dead. Not when you've set your mind against it.” 

Yua felt a tired smile tug the corner of her mouth. “Damn right.” 

The back door of the house was hanging on its hinges, but otherwise seemed to be in working order. Matsuo pushed it open, noisily, waiting for Yua to go ahead of him. 

Inside, the house was dark, the only light filtering in from the broken windows. Yua stepped carefully around debris, making her way towards the next room where she could hear familiar voices. The voices died quickly and the house fell eerily silent. 

Yua didn't say a word, freezing in place. She had to work to keep her heart rate normal and mask her presence. Matsuo's heavy footsteps broke her concentration, sending her heart into a frenzy. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd trusted the enemy by trusting Matsuo; it was a rooky move, and had she been more clearheaded she might have been harder on herself. 

Matsuo's hand came up, resting on her shoulder. “Relax,” he said. “I told you, we're not under his control anymore.” 

“I—” Yua pitched forward, her world spinning. Matsuo caught her before she could hit the ground, carrying her into the next room and setting her down on a pile of lumpy cushions. 

“What's wrong with her?” 

Matsuo snorted. “What isn't?” he asked, his voice bitter. “Deidara's taken an interest in her. I'm amazed she hasn't died yet.” 

“Th-thanks for—for having so much f-faith in me,” Yua managed, her head still spinning. 

“Don't talk,” Eri said, her voice close to Yua's ear. “Just rest. They're looking for you right now, so we won't be getting you out anytime soon.” 

“We can fix you up some more,” Takka said. “It's still not gonna be as good as if we could get you to the hospital, but even dead I'm still a decent medic.” 

Yua shook her head. “I'm not sure there's anything you can do.” 

“We'll see,” Takka said. “Just rest. I'll grab what supplies I've managed to salvage.” 

“Momo, Ren,” Matsuo said. “Could you go keep watch? I don't want any surprises. If they find us, we'll need to move quickly.” 

“You got it, boss,” Ren said. “Come on, Momoko.” 

There was a loud thwack, followed by Ren groaning. “That's not my name,” Momo said.

Ren laughed. “Still as touchy as ever. That's how I know it's you underneath.” 

They left together, disappearing into the darkness of the next room, Ren's voice drifting until it was silent again. The silence was overwhelming after hearing so many familiar voices. Yua wanted to hear Matsuo talk, she wanted him to tell her his grandmother's stories like he used to do when they were on missions. She wanted to hear about her brother, she wanted to hear from Matsuo why he'd always smile when Yao was around. 

Anything to keep her grounded to this life. 

“Matsuo,” she said, her voice faint even in the silence. “Tell me a story.” 

He moved closer to her, sitting down next to her on the ground. He reached out a hand, brushing hair from her face. 

“What story?” 

“The one about the lovers,” she said. “The one Yao always liked.” 

Matsuo was silent for a moment, glancing back as Takka returned with supplies. He set to work on Yua in silence as Matsuo watched on. Yua thought she'd made him mad, but then he spoke, his voice thick. 

“A long time ago, when the sun was young, it fell in love with the earth. But when it reached for the earth, the land burned—that is how the deserts came to be.” Matsuo's voice filled Yua's head as Takka's cold hands moved over her injured body, and her mind slipped away.

***

Death was everywhere these days, but the stench of new death had drawn San away from their home and into the desert in the early hours of the morning. Motoko was still waiting, high above the gorge, watching for any signs of San's return. It had been five hours since their departure, four hours too long by Motoko's calculations. 

It was another hour before Motoko saw the tell-tale signs of Kuu returning with San. Even from a distance, Motoko could see that something was wrong. She disappeared from her perch in a flash, rushing down the walls of the gorge and towards the flat earth, using chakra to keep herself from falling. Motoko did not miss her life in Suna, but she was grateful for the shinobi teachings she had learned in moments like this. 

She kicked up sand as she ran to meet her lover. San was hunched over Kuu, driving the beast to move faster and faster, their expression grim. Motoko slowed to a stop as San rode nearer.

San's golden eyes flashed as they approached, reaching out an arm for Motoko's own outstretched one. They moved as one, San clasping Motoko's upper arm as Motoko clasped theirs, and then she was airborne, vaulted briefly before she landed behind San on Kuu's back. There was blood on Motoko's arm when she had settled. Her eyes fixated on that for a brief moment, a flash of panic coursing through her, her eyes darting towards San. 

The limp body in San's lap eased Motoko's fears for her lover, but new concerns rose in her mind, concerns she would not be able to broach until they had made it to the safety of their home. She stared at San's profile for a long moment, taking in the blood on San's cheek and the tightness in their expression. Motoko's eyes drifted to the person that San held close to their chest. She could see very little of them as they rode across the desert, only dark brown hair matted with blood peaking out from a tattered headdress, the Suna emblem glinting in the sunlight. 

Unease settled within her as they drew closer to their home, the sandy hills of the desert slopping down and walls rising slowly around them. The temperature dropped subtly as they made it into the shade of the canyon they called home. Five minutes later, they bypassed the men on watch and then they entered the main heart of the tribe. 

The canyon road was crowded with people tending to their daily chores: children ran up and down, climbing the ledges and laughing as they tried to avoid their parents; men and women set out fresh fruit and meats to dry in the heat, while others prepared meals for the evening; warriors tended their weapons or followed the thin paths in the walls up to the top where they would take up watch. Their tribe was bustling and alive; the arrival of this Suna shinobi could only bring ill tidings for their people, Motoko thought. 

San guided Kuu further into the village, passing by curious villagers and leaving whispers in their wake. They stopped before a small carved out home, built deep into the canyon wall. 

“Do you truly think you can save her?” Motoko asked as San dismounted, carefully pulling the unconscious kunoichi into their arms. 

San glanced up, eyes darker in the shade of the gorge. They did not speak as they adjusted the woman in their arms. After a moment, they turned away, moving into the home of the village healer. 

Motoko huffed before jumping off Kuu. She patted the beast's side, then followed after San. Inside, the hut was cool, the only light coming from the door and a few well placed lanterns. The healer's voice sounded, gentle and strong, resonating from the back rooms. 

“There is little I can do,” the healer said. “Death calls this child. All we can do is make her passing more comfortable.” 

“She said she needed to speak with the Kazekage,” San said, voice clipped. 

“Yes,” the healer said. Motoko came up to the curtains separating the main room from the back, drawing them open and passing through. San and the village healer knelt before the unconscious kunoichi, a small fire burning in a hole in the ground, herbs wafting through the room. It was a heady scent that always made Motoko feel dizzy. 

The healer glanced briefly at Motoko, then returned their attention back to the dying woman. “She will not part with her life until she completes her task, but she is in great pain. There is very little chance that she will succeed.” 

San was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. “Can you wake her?” 

“Yes, but there is no telling how long she will stay conscious. This is beyond my power to heal.” 

San nodded. “I only need to speak with her. That will be enough.” 

“I shall do as you ask,” the healer said, rising to their feet. They moved away from the kunoichi, towards a small hutch where they busied themself with herbs. Motoko approached San, dropping to her knees to rest beside her lover. 

“What do you expect to gain from this?” 

San's hands clenched in their lap, dried blood cracking along their knuckles and flaking off. “I do not know, my love,” San finally said. “I found her delirious and near death, calling for the Kazekage. I promised her I would take her to him. But that is a great journey, even for Kuu.” 

“You should not meddle in this,” Motoko said. “She's a shinobi. We have no obligations to her.” 

San's nostrils flared. “Have a heart, my love. I would no sooner let this woman die than one of my own. If I were to turn my back on a fellow warrior then I might as well join the enemy. You would do well to set aside your grudge against Suna, Motoko. This is not the time for that.” 

“Then I am to watch you die for _his_ cause? I have sat idly by while you befriend that monster, and now you would go to him and leave your village when we need you most. What if these demons come here? What if our home is next? Suna has already fallen, leave it to ruin. Do not join in their war, San.” 

“I would sooner die than betray my alliance with the Kazekage!” San shouted, rising in a flurry. In all the years that Motoko had known San, had loved San, they had never once raised their voice to her. Though they had disagreed plenty—especially where Gaara of the Desert was concerned—San had never once shouted. Motoko had forgotten what a force her lover could be when angered. 

“Then he is more important to you than I?” she asked, her voice small. 

San's nostrils flared as they looked down at Motoko. “My duty is to protect this village, and that means forming alliances. You know that as well as I. Whatever you knew of the Kazekage, he is a different man, one I would trust with my life. He has done nothing but strive for peace these past years; he has done everything in his power to change himself and his village for the better. What would we gain by holding on to past fears and old grudges?” 

“Grudges?” Motoko snapped. “Is that what this is to you? A grudge?” 

“No,” San said, looking away. “But it is a distraction. You are blinded by your rage. You cannot see what is before us—”

“And you cannot see the Kazekage for what he is—what he has always been!” Motoko was on her feet now, her voice rising. 

Before San could answer, the woman at their feet groaned. The healer clicked their tongue. “Your anger only brings her more pain, child.” 

Motoko found herself pinned by the healer's steely gaze. She looked down to avoid those eyes, and found that the kunoichi's eyes were on her too, though her gaze was unfocused and her eyes only half open. 

San dropped to their knees, resting a hand on the woman's forehead. “Can you speak?” 

The woman's eyes drifted lazily towards San's face. She blinked once, slowly, then her gaze fell back to Motoko. “Y-you don't—know—him.” 

“You'd be surprised,” Motoko said, her lip curling. “I lived in Suna in my youth. I remember the Kazekage all too well.” 

“N-no, y-you don't. You—you only know Gaara of—of the Desert. That is not—” She coughed violently, blood dribbling down her chin. “He is more than that. H-he is a good man.” 

“You would call a monster like that good? After all the carnage he has caused?” 

The woman laughed, a weak and gravely sound. “A-are your hands so clean?” 

The healer stepped forward, clicking their tongue. “Come now, save your strength. Your Kazekage would not want you to waste it on such matters, not when you have an important mission, right?” 

The woman's eyes opened fully and she tried to sit up to no avail. “The Kazekage! I-I have to—to get to him. I must—I must tell him—they can be killed!” 

San held her down with ease, eyes going wide. “The risen dead? They can be destroyed? How?” 

“F-fire. Fire can—it can kill them. I must—I have to go to—to Konoha.” 

“No, child,” the healer said sternly. They reached out a hand, herb covered fingers touching the woman's head. “You must rest. You are near death, you must know that.” 

The woman nodded. “I-I won't die. Not until I've completed my mission.” 

“A true Suna shinobi,” the healer said. “But I'm afraid that is not an option for you. You must pass on your mission to another.” 

“I—but I promised—I have to—”

“I will see to it,” San interrupted, “that the Kazekage is made aware of this information. If there is anything else, I vow to you that I will tell him.” 

“I—I don't—I have to—”

“You have to rest, now. You have done your Kazekage proud, child. We will see to the rest from here.” The healer moved their hands from the woman's face to her chest, rubbing oil into her skin. “We will take on your mission so that you may be at peace.” 

“My brother—”

“What is your brother's name?” San asked.

“Yao,” she gasped, arching into the healer's palm pressed against her sternum. “I—I promised him I would tell him—I promised—he—lo—” She fell still, her body relaxing, her breathing evening out as her eyes closed. 

“What did you do?” San snapped, hands moving towards the healer's. 

“I simply forced her to rest. She is in no condition to speak now. I will wake her again later.” 

San sat back, eyes searching the woman before them. “I must go. I will return tonight and when I do I will need to speak with her again.” 

The healer nodded. “I shall ensure that she is ready for another visit. Until then, may the desert guard you.” 

“And you.” 

San rose, moving to the curtained off exit. “Motoko.” 

Motoko narrowed her eyes, but rose to her feet, bowing once to the healer before following after her lover. 

***

Reaching the gates of Konoha had felt like an impossible feat. Shikamaru was bone tired, his arms and legs shaking, and his head spinning; he'd done too much, fought too many, all in the hopes they would make it back to Konoha in time. 

They hadn't: Sunako had died mere hours from their destination. Sato had been beside himself with grief for his sister, nearly compromising their location with his hysterics. Riisa had punched him so hard Shikamaru had worried she'd given him a concussion—he'd be sure to send Sato to the hospital first thing—but it had helped him to remember himself. 

“You're a shinobi of Suna,” Riisa had snapped. “Act like one.” 

Shikamaru could not imagine losing one of his teammates, the closest thing he had to a sibling. He felt for Sato, but Riisa had been right: the mission had to come first. 

Once they had crossed into Konoha, the village's gates closing with a swift and solid bang behind them, Shikamaru turned to Sato. “Hospital,” he said. “Get your head checked out, then rest. Riisa, go with him and take Sunako to the morgue. She deserves a proper burial.” 

Riisa nodded. “Yeah, I'll make sure she's taken care of. Come on, Sato.” 

Sato followed numbly, his expression far off, as though focusing on any one thing would remind him of what he'd just lost. 

Shikamaru sighed. “Susumu, go on. Get some rest. You too, Hinata. I doubt we'll have much time after today for that.” 

“You know, I really hate when you're right,” Susumu muttered. “I think I'll go visit my mom first, though.” 

“Whatever,” Shikamaru said. “Just as long as you get some rest.” Susumu held up a hand as he left, leaving Shikamaru and Hinata to walk the streets of Konoha together. 

Hinata had been quiet since Sunako's death, her clear eyes brimming but no tears falling. 

“Go rest. I'm the one in charge. I can report to the council or—hopefully—the Hokage.” 

“Hm? Oh, yes. I'll—I'll see you later, Shikamaru-kun.” 

Shikamaru sighed, watching as she headed towards the Hyuuga compounds. As she disappeared around a corner, a familiar head of blonde hair caught his eyes: Temari was walking with her brother and an unfamiliar Suna kunoichi. Her head was held high, her expression set. She didn't look at her companions or even so much as glance at the shopping citizens; she was single-minded in whatever she was about to do. It couldn't mean anything good, but Shikamaru still took the time to appreciate Temari from a safe distance away. 

There was so little time for things like romance—and yet wasn't that the point? Shouldn't they be grasping at all the moments they had with their families, friends, teammates, and lovers? Shikamaru had spent so much of his life trying to appreciate the little moments—napping in the sunshine, watching clouds roll by overhead—but now he wondered if maybe he'd been missing out on the big things. 

If he died in this war, he didn't want to die with regrets. 

He followed behind Temari and her companions until they turned down a different road. He stopped, watching her progress as she moved through the crowd. After a moment, her footsteps slowed, ever so slightly and her gaze turned back, catching his eye. He quickly ducked his head, making a bee-line for Hokage Tower. 

Once he had given his report, assuming that she wasn't busy, Shikamaru decided that he'd find Temari; it was high time that he stop dancing around her and make a choice. He was sure she already knew what his feelings were, but he figured she might like to hear it all same. In fact, he was sure they could both use a little bit of happiness right now. Indulging in happiness when war was so close seemed almost wrong, but Shikamaru had seen too much out there in the forests to back away from this: war was coming whether he liked it or not. Either he could die with regrets or he could live his life to the fullest. 

It wasn't really a hard choice, in the end. He only hoped that neither of them would lose the other when it came time to meet the enemy in battle. 

***

Hinata seemed tired, at least, Neji wasn't used to seeing bags around her eyes. He had always thought they could pass for twins, and now with their matching tired eyes ringed with bruises and bags he thought so again with a much more somber note—of the three youngest Hyuuga, Hanabi alone remained untouched by the war. But then she hadn't been out there, hadn't seen the things Neji and Hinata had seen, hadn't had to use her Byakkugan for weeks on end without reprieve. 

It was an unsettling revelation that soon, Hanabi might have the same eyes, might look just as worn down as her sister and Neji. As the impending threat of battle loomed ever closer, being a young Genin was no longer enough to keep you safe. Neji had seen what Konoha and Suna had done to the young academy students that up until three months ago had been too young to be full-fledged Genin: ten years old and already wielding weapons with precision. Tenten had cried into his shoulder after the session he'd watched had ended and they had returned to the relative privacy of her home.

He suddenly wished that Hanabi was younger than her thirteen years. Perhaps nine, surely that would be too young even for the council to consider sending into battle. 

Hinata watched as her sister approached them. They had found a secluded table in the back of one of the nicer establishments Konoha boasted. It was the safest place for them to talk about Hiashi's plans; Neji wasn't sure what Hanabi had told her sister yet, but they had plenty of time to discuss things now with the excuse of eating a meal and few prying eyes to question them. 

“Sister,” Hanabi said as she sat down. She inclined her head towards Neji. 

Hinata glanced between Neji and her sister, her tired eyes seeking out answers without speaking. After a long moment of silence, she spoke, her soft voice well-hidden to any potential eavesdroppers; the gentle hum of plates clinking in the restaurant and the sounds of sizzling food from the kitchen easily drowning it out.

“It's happened, hasn't it?” 

Hanabi inclined her head. Hinata dropped her gaze to the table. “I should have known. I was away for so long and—he's kept his focus on you for all these years, but I didn't think...” 

“You've been preparing for this?” Neji asked, surprised. 

Hinata nodded. “Father demoted me years ago, but he never broached the subject of placing a seal on me. I-it was something I feared,” she admitted, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “But I'd thought perhaps he wouldn't, that he'd changed his mind now. I'd thought that, even if he didn't care for me he'd still see how I'd grown and decide to move away from tradition. That maybe you would be the last to bear the seal.” She glanced at Neji from the corner of her eye, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. “I wish you didn't have that seal, but I'd hoped you would be the last.” 

Neji shook his head. “Your father would have you be the last, it seems.” Hinata's eyes brimmed with teas, and Neji regretted the harshness of his words. “I'm sorry, Hinata-sama. I do not intend to go through with this. If we can change your father's mind—”

“But you would finally be rid of the seal!” Hinata's voice rose, her head snapping up. “You—you would keep the seal if you don't marry Hanabi.” 

“It is my choice. I will not damn you to the same fate, Hinata-sama. You have worked hard to prove yourself. Your father can't see that, but I can. I won't allow this to happen.” 

Hinata looked down again, glancing across the table to her sister. “Is—is that your only reason?” 

Neji hesitated. No, it wasn't, but he certainly thought it was reason enough. Another reason was Hanabi: they had never been all that close, even when Hiashi had taken Neji under his tutelage, and she was much too young. Even if they waited until she was twenty, Neji would always remember the child she'd been. 

But the other reason that crowded his mind and heart was none of their business as far as he was concerned.

“Hanabi-sama is too young,” he added after a moment. “She may be the clan's heiress, but she should still have her own life. I do not want to be promised to her, and I believe she feels the same though I cannot speak for her.” 

Hanabi cleared her throat. “I do not want to be promised to anyone. I am already promised to the clan; that is more than enough of a burden to bear. And if I am to marry, then it will be on my terms, not Father's.” 

“Besides,” Neji added, “I don't think this will be as good for the clan as your father thinks. We've been set in our ways for too long, Hinata-sama. As you said, I would like to be the last person to bear this seal.” 

Hinata blinked tears from her eyes. “You are both risking a lot, you know. You could easily cast aside all concern for me, think only of yourselves. Father might be angry with you, Hanabi. He will certainly be angry with you, Neji-niisan, and the consequences of his anger—I do not know what he would do, but I do not want to see either of you punished because of me.” 

Neji sighed. “You're too selfless, Hinata-sama. I have already made up my mind, and it is not all for you that I have made this choice. I have my own private reasons.” 

Hinata smiled at him, knowing and bright, the tears at the corners of her eyes glittering in the dim light of the restaurant. “I'm sure Tenten would be angry at you for not choosing to get rid of the seal. She wants what's best for you, too.” 

Neji felt his face warm, but he quickly clamped down on his body's response, forcing control into his core to steady his heartbeat and the blood rushing to his face. He looked away, frowning. “That is private.” 

Hanabi and Hinata both laughed, startling him. He hadn't heard anyone laugh, not even Lee, in far too long. Not like that; not with happiness and warmth and love. Hearing his cousins' laughter eased something in him, and Neji smiled softly, shaking his head. 

“That is beside the point,” he said. “Tenten is not a Hyuuga, and these affairs do not concern her.” 

Hinata shook her head, still smiling. “I think this does concern her, don't you, Hanabi?” 

“I agree, though I doubt Father would approve.” 

“Father never approves,” Hinata said. It was a joke, Neji realized. In all the years he'd known her, he had never once heard her speak of her father in such a way. It made him laugh, catching both of his cousins by surprise. 

“Forgive me,” he said, coughing to cover his laughter. “I meant no disrespect.” 

“And I meant no respect,” Hinata said, raising an eyebrow. “We are conspiring against my father, Neji-niisan. The fact that we're doing this for the good of the clan as well as ourselves will not matter to him. If Father finds out...” She shook her head. “It doesn't matter. He'll be too busy right now with the war. It'll give us time to come up with a way to change his mind and maybe change the clan.” 

“Father is rather preoccupied. The war has him paranoid. I think he's worried about what will happen to him more than anything.” 

Hinata shook her head, her gaze suddenly far off. “He's worried about what will happen with me on the front line. He thinks I'll die in battle, and that someone will take that as an opportunity to steal our gift.” 

Neji narrowed his eyes. “How can you be sure of that?” 

“He told me so, before I left for my mission.” 

It was not often that Neji felt truly angry these days. He'd left behind those days after his first time in the Chuunin exams, and now he kept his feelings in check ensuring that anger was always a distant one. He did not want to allow himself to be ruled by bitterness and anger ever again. But the anger that surged through him now was different, fierce and protective, nothing like the toxic hardness of his younger years. 

“You won't die,” Neji said, the words more harshly than he'd meant. “You won't, Hinata-sama. I am sure of it. Your father cannot see—for all the sight his eyes have—he cannot see your strength.” 

Hinata smiled sadly at him. “Thank you, Neji-niisan. I am glad that you have so much faith in me.” 

“I have faith in you, too,” Hanabi said, her gaze unwavering. Hinata blushed. “You won't die and you will change our clan. The three of us will change it together, and Father won't need to marry any of us off to keep our clan alive and our secrets safe.” 

Hinata and Neji nodded. 

“It won't be easy,” Hinata said softly, “but I believe that we can do it. If we have the confidence to succeed, then we won't fail.” 

It would take years, Neji thought, but even with the threat of war, he suddenly felt hopeful. They would change the clan, come hell or high water, and Hyuuga Hiashi's ways would be a thing of the past. Though Neji's eyes could only see what was in the now, he thought maybe he could see the future: a future where he was even happier than he could have imagined, as the last Hyuuga to bear the cursed seal. 

***

The energy between them was still tense, even after their lengthy discussion or perhaps because of it. San, as far as Motoko was concerned, was throwing their life away and risking their village pointlessly; Motoko, as far as San saw things, was being pig-headed and selfish by holding on to old hurts. San had said that if Motoko could not set aside her feelings for the Kazekage that it would be her undoing; Motoko felt similarly. 

Despite her strong feelings on the matter, Motoko still accompanied San to the healer's home that evening to meet with the dying Suna kunoichi. 

Heartless though it was, Motoko rather hoped the woman had already passed on. It might save her lover from their foolhardy quest to aid the Kazekage, and the woman had seemed quite pained. Surely death would be a relief for her after her ordeal. 

The healer's home was dimmer now, heady fumes filling the house that made Motoko dizzy. The healer was humming one of the tribes songs of passing; it was said to ease the spirits of those that clung to life when they should be embracing death. 

“Is she awake?” San asked as they entered the back room. 

The woman was, indeed, awake. She was lying, propped against a large stone padded with cloth, her eyes half-open. Her gaze seemed cloudy, but her dark eyes flicked to San, somehow still aware, before sliding to Motoko. 

“You,” the woman said, leaning forward. The healer stopped her, gently nudging her back against the stone. 

“Does my presence offend you?” Motoko asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I saw you in my dreams,” the woman whispered, eyes drifting close. 

Motoko frowned, glancing to the healer. “She is close to death,” the healer said. “It would be unwise to ignore the dreams of those that travel Between in sleep.” 

San knelt beside the woman, their golden eyes intent. “Can you tell me your name?” 

“Yua,” the woman said, blinking slowly, their head tilting so they could look at San. “I am Yua.” 

“Good,” San said, offering a strained smile. “And could you tell me what happened to you?” 

Yua's eyes widened and she leaned forward again, reaching her arms out. “The Kazekage. I have to warn him—”

“And you will,” San said firmly, taking her hands in their own. “But you must relax and tell me what you can. You were in Suna, correct?” 

Yua nodded. “It's—they're keeping us alive for their entertainment. I was—I was his favorite.” 

San frowned. “What do you mean?” 

Yua shuddered, her lip quivering. “H-he let them torture us for sport. Sometimes—sometimes he'd force our own comrades to hurt us, to—to do things to the women. Even the men. But I was _his_ favorite. He said he'd break me so he could show the Kazekage. H-he wants to kill him, he wants to finish what he started.” 

San's hands were clenched tightly in their lap as they listened, but Motoko was the one to speak first. Her feelings towards the Kazekage and Suna were forgotten in the wake of her rage on behalf of Yua. “He raped you.” 

Tears slid down Yua's face. She nodded. 

San let out a low, feral growl, a sound they had learned from Kuu in their childhood and could mimic so expertly that even their best hunters could not distinguish San's growl and that of a real beast. The dim fire glinted in San's eyes and their nostrils flared. 

“I will send him back to hell where he belongs,” San spat. They were breathing heavily, hands clenched in tight fists and their anger like a flame, hot and bright and dangerous. “You said you knew how to kill him.” 

Yua closed her eyes. “Fire. Matsuo said fire would kill them. 'Fire was the gift that chased away the demons, and so we burn the bodies lest the demons find the empty shells of our beloved and walk again.'” She opened her eyes, looking from San to Motoko. “Burn them, purge Suna of the demons so my people may return home.” 

“You have my word,” San said. “Do you know if there are others who are still alive?” 

“I think so,” Yua said. She frowned, her gaze shifting to something far off. “I heard them calling—they were calling for the Kazekage.” 

“You heard this before you escaped?” 

Yua shook her head. “No. Now. I can still hear them. They're calling for him to save them, to save our home.” Yua let out a sob. “They hurt. Oh, god. I-I have to—I have to tell the Kazekage.” She tried to sit up again, pushing at the blankets on top of her. San and the healer stopped her, trying to keep her down while still being gentle. “L—let me go! I have to go!” 

Motoko watched, her heart aching. She had left Suna when she was thirteen, only a Genin and not quite loyal to the village the way shinobi who had served their whole lives had been. Watching Yua now something in her stirred; that old sense of duty and the feeling of camaraderie she'd had with her old teammates. She did not think of herself as a shinobi or a citizen of Suna, but some part of her heart still lived there; still loved the valley and its clay houses piled on top of one another, and those crowded streets with kiosks of fruits and meats and jewelry, and the children playing and the shinobi training and the Kazekage monument always watching over them. 

She stepped forward, falling to one knee and placing a hand on Yua's shoulder, stilling her struggling. “Shh,” she murmured. “You don't have to fight anymore. You can rest now. You have done your duty, Yua. Your Kazekage will know of this, he will know of your strength and courage, and he will know how to fight the enemy. But it is time for you to rest. You have fought a long, hard battle.” 

“I-I have a mission. I have to tell him—”

“The Kazekage will be told. We have already promised you—”

“N-no,” Yua said, her voice cracking. “My brother. My brother doesn't know. I promised him I'd tell him.” 

Motoko frowned. “You promised who?” 

Yua shook her head once, then groaned. “I can't tell you.” 

Motoko looked at San, catching her lover's eye. “Would you be able to write it down? I could deliver the message to your brother.” 

Yua's hand shook as she reached towards Motoko. “You will go to Konoha,” she said. “I remember now. My dream. I—I will write a letter. And you will tell the Kazekage, and bring aid to our people.” 

Motoko opened her mouth to protest, but San cut her off. “If that is your wish, then it will be done.” 

“I pass my mission to you,” Yua said, her voice softer than before. “May the winds carry you to safety and guide you on your way.” 

Her hand slipped from Motoko's face, falling at her side as she fell unconscious. Motoko hesitated before reaching out to touch Yua's hand.

“Do not worry,” the healer said. “I took precautions in case she did not last long. She woke before either of you arrived, raving about dreams and missions.” The healer pulled from the pocket of their robes a folded piece of paper and handed it to Motoko. “This is for her brother. She was very adamant about this message making it to it's destination.” 

Motoko took the letter with trembling fingers. A part of her wanted to open it to understand why Yua had felt this was so important, but she forced that curiosity down; if it had been pertinent information in fighting against these monsters, then she would have told them. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with Suna or the Kazekage. Motoko would happily shoulder this mission for the sake of Yua's dying wish. 

“It seems she is still holding on,” the healer said, interrupting Motoko's thoughts. “But she will not last much longer. I will not force her to wake again.” 

“Of course,” San said softly. “She deserves peace. We have gotten all that we can from her.” They glanced at Motoko, expression closed off and gaze calculating. “A dying woman has passed her mission to you, Motoko. Now, more than ever, I must ask you as your leader to set aside your feelings for the Kazekage.” San rose. “You must leave for Konoha as soon as possible. I will send word to the other tribes; we will gather our forces and prepare to advance on Suna. Half will come with me, the other half with you. Can you accept this?” 

Motoko glanced down at the letter, at Yua's face now soft as she approached death, then up to San. She rose to her feet, stepping close to San. “I have the blood of Suna and the blood of our tribe in me. I am bound to serve you, as I am bound to serve Suna. I broke a warriors oath when I left Suna to join my mother's people, but now I will make amends. I will not ignore a mission passed to me by a dying comrade. You have my word, San of the Red Rock.” 

San's mouth twitched. “Then be strong and firm; prepare for your mission. As soon as reinforcements arrive you will leave for Konoha.” 

Motoko stepped away and bowed. “As you will it, I shall obey.” 

She turned to leave, but San's hand on her arm stopped her. Warmth spread up her arm where San's strong hand gripped her, gentle but firm. The callouses on San's fingers were rough, but Motoko knew that the rest of San was all smooth, soft skin. She looked back at San, but instead of words, San pressed their mouth to Motoko's. They parted quickly, but Motoko felt the tension between them ease. 

“Thank you,” San whispered against Motoko's mouth, then let her go stepping away as though nothing so intimate as a kiss had passed between them. 

Motoko kept the smile from her lips as she turned to leave, clutching the letter for Yao to her chest to ground her in her decision: Yua's mission was hers now, and so was her love of her village. She did not have to love the Kazekage, but she could still work to protect Suna's future. 

***

The Raikage's return had brought with it a sigh of relief for the villagers. For Haruna, it brought a sense of foreboding: it was time to confront the reality she had been avoiding. Five days she had spent with Yue, six days she had spent avoiding the truth about her brother. She knew she should have said something sooner, told one of the other Jounin or the council, but she simply couldn't—he was her little brother, dead or alive. She simply couldn't stand to think that after all this time he'd been killed. How he had been killed was a mystery, though, for as far as Haruna could tell the enemy hadn't infiltrated their village. 

If they could kill her brother without entering the village, what else could they do? And why had they not killed more? Or had they? Were all of her comrades the dead reborn? Were they all gathering information for the enemy? Or had only her brother been damned to such a fate? 

The thoughts had kept her going back to Nine Clouds, but no more. The Raikage had returned, which meant Haruna needed to be steadfast in her resolve. The village came first, without question, even before family. 

It was strange to see the Raikage without Darui at his side, but Haruna was grateful to have an audience alone. 

The Raikage's stern gaze rooted her to the spot, as though he might already know the secret she'd kept for so long. 

“Raikage-sama,” she said. “I know you have only just returned from Konoha, but I am deeply concerned.” 

The Raikage sighed. “Indeed,” he grumbled. “Well, out with it. What new concerns do you have for me?” 

It weighed on Haruna that she had let things go on for so long. Her suspicions had started exactly fourteen days ago, had been confirmed for six—that was more than enough time for the enemy to gain important information. On top of that, she had no idea just how long her brother had been dead for. As Captain of the Guard, he was privy to so much: the comings and goings of Kumo shinobi; the fortifications of the village; the plans in the event of enemy attack; the safe houses; and so much more. Fourteen days was more than enough time to obtain all that information. 

Haruna realized with a pang that she had failed her village. 

“I have become aware that Toru may be possessed by the enemy,” she said stiffly. “I cannot say for how long, but it has been at least two weeks since my suspicions arose. I was unable to confirm the matter, sir, until six days ago.” 

Silence met this declaration. The Raikage sat, staring at her unseeingly, his hands balled into large fists on the desk before him. 

“I realize,” she continued when he did not speak, “that my inaction may have cost us dearly. I admit I let my feelings cloud my judgment, Raikage-sama, and I was wary of alerting the enemy in case they attacked. I am prepared to retire as a shinobi, without honor if that is what you wish. It is clear to me now that I am too old to properly attend to my duties.” 

The Raikage's chair crashed to the floor as he rose, the movement fast and furious. He glared down at her, his skin reddening in his anger. “I will deal with you later,” the Raikage said, stalking from behind his desk, his voice deadly quiet. “I must see to our defenses and ensure that Naruto and Killer B are still safe.” 

He left the room, leaving Haruna to wait for the consequences of her inaction. 

***

“You can't—Gaara, you're not well enough to leave the hospital!” 

“Perhaps I shouldn't, but I will be leaving. News of Kusagakure's destruction has pushed us into a corner, Temari. I need to be meeting with the Hokage and our councils to prepare for the final assault.” 

“And you can't do that from here?” Temari snapped. 

“Come on, sis, give him a break!”

“A break? A break!?” Temari shouted, whirling on Kankurou. “How about the break in his ribs!? How about the internal bleeding that could have killed him on our last mission? How about I break your damned puppets?!” 

“Temari,” Gaara said flatly, his tone silencing her. He could appreciate her concerns, but he was not making requests.

“Gaara, please,” she said, her voice wavering. It was unlike her to show such emotion, but Gaara would not be moved. 

“I've made my decision: I'll be leaving the hospital tomorrow.” 

Temari squared her shoulders, the open emotion on her face flickering away. “Fine.” 

“I have a duty, Temari,” he reminded her. “I can't help in the fight against Madara if I spend my days in hospital. Injured or not, I am the Kazekage of Suna and a general in this war.” 

“Right. Well, I hope your duty is worth it.” 

She whirled around, marching from the room. Kankurou let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “She's just worried, you know? She's got a lot on her mind with the war and everything. She just doesn't want to see you get hurt again.” 

“I understand her concern, Kankurou, but that doesn't change anything. Perhaps if Kusa—no, even if we had not lost Kusa to the enemy I would leave. I am useless lying in bed all day.” 

“Yeah, I know what ya mean, but are you sure you can handle this? I mean, we've only been back for what—two and a half weeks? You really pushed yourself out there and I honestly thought it would kill you.” 

Gaara shook his head. “I do not think Lee would have let that happen.” 

Kankurou snorted. “Bowl-Cut's lucky Temari didn't flay him for not telling us how bad you were in the tunnels.” 

“I did tell him not to,” Gaara pointed out. “It's hardly his fault that I asked him to keep that from you.” 

Kankruou shrugged. “Probably the only reason he's alive, but...yeah, you're right. He did good keeping you from killing yourself. I still wish I'd seen him trying to carry you out of the tunnels, though. I coulda used a laugh.” 

Gaara resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I assure you it was not that amusing. I only allowed it because it was necessary at the time.” 

“Aw, don't be so touchy,” Kankurou teased, grinning. “I'm sure no one will think less of you for letting a Konoha shinobi piggyback you across the desert. I mean, he did it before, after all.” 

Gaara hummed. “So he did.” 

“Anyway,” Kankurou said, glancing at the door. “Do you want me to go talk to her?” 

“It won't help. She has every right to be concerned; it'll only upset her if you talk to her.” 

Kankurou rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but if she yells at me she might feel better.”

Gaara glanced at Kankurou, his mouth twitching. “Perhaps. I don't see how it will help the situation, but if it will make her feel better—”

Kankurou chuckled. “On it, little brother.” He reached out, ruffling Gaara's hair before leaving. Gaara sighed, closing his eyes. He hadn't had a moment to himself since they'd returned from their mission and the silence was a welcome reprieve. For all that he loved his siblings, their concern had become stifling. They simply had to accept that the village came first, above all else. 

He wasn't thrilled to be leaving the hospital though. Sick of it as he was, there was no denying that it was easier on his body to spend his days in bed. There was little he could do about it now though, and he'd been in the hospital long enough now that the worst of his injury was behind him. 

Gaara pushed himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain as he moved. It was minor compared to what it had been upon their return but, despite having spent over three months in constant pain, he was still not used to it. The pain prickled at him, leaving him irritated and altogether uninterested in any more company for the day. His sand slithered across the floor, forming a barrier around the door. Kankurou and Temari would certainly protest, but he needed the time alone. 

On his bedside table were documents for him to go over from the council—it was enough work to pass his last day in the hospital relatively quickly—and the remaining dumplings that Lee had brought him. There were still quite a few left, but Gaara was eating them steadily, the taste having finally grown on him. 

***

Tsunade had been braced to sustain losses since becoming Hokage. It was the nature of shinobi life and to pretend otherwise was not only naive but misguided. If she thought leading a village of shinobi would not be a life of constant mourning, then she would fail. Being Hokage meant more than leading and protecting a village, it meant sacrificing for the village and bearing the weight of that sacrifice. 

Her hands were stained with the blood of the shinobi who she had vowed to protect, as every other Kage's hands were. It was a testament to each Kage's strength that they could carry on every day when faced with so much death.

It was why she hesitated, even now, despite his strength and skill, to allow Naruto to take over as Hokage. A part of her wanted nothing more than to pass the mantel on to him; to take the weight of the village off her shoulders and wash her hands of the future deaths that she would order in the name of peace. Tsunade did not think herself old, but she was bone weary. 

The realization that the war might be it for her came late in the night, four days after Team Gai and Kakashi had left to retrieve Naruto, when a painted bird arrived at her office window, waking her from a restless and unexpected nap. It tapped at her window in sharp bursts that jerked her from the dark oblivion of unconsciousness, her heart in her throat. The bird's painted black eyes stared through the window at Tsunade as she calmed herself before she finally let it inside. The bird flew to her desk, circling above her head, before diving onto a partially blank scroll that Tsunade had been using prior to falling asleep. Words sprang to life, characters forming in slow moving curls and scattered jumps on the paper until a message had formed. Tsunade's eyes took the words in numbly, reading and re-reading the first lines of the message. 

_Hokage-sama,  
I have sent this missive to inform you that my mission has come to a premature end: I have been killed. Please inform my teammates as soon as conveniently possible; I do not want them to worry needlessly. I have included a detailed report of what I uncovered on my mission in the forests of Fire. It is my hope that the information is useful and that my death was not in vain. I am sure I will see my fellows on the battlefield, and though I may now be on the opposing side, I am now and forevermore a Konoha shinobi. -Sai_

Tsunade turned away, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of her office window. This was the first death Konoha had seen since the war began. Tsunade was sure there were others from Konoha who had passed on, but Sai's was the first she had received word of and it struck her that Team Seven was once again short a member. 

Her lungs felt suddenly empty, chest too tight to breathe. She clenched her fingers around the wooden frame of the window, the wood protesting against her strength. She could not keep the guilt at bay as she thought of Sakura's and Naruto's faces when they returned, happy to be home and eager to see their teammate. The sob that followed this thought echoed in the silence of her office. She quickly sucked it down, gasping for air and trying to keep a hold of her composure. 

The first death in war was always the hardest, she thought, staring blankly out across the village. Carefully, she began to pack those feelings away, compartmentalizing Sakura's and Naruto's stricken faces; shutting out the cold that seeped into her at the thought that their homecoming would be a somber occasion now. 

There was no alcohol left in her office to stave off the guilt and no amount of emotional numbing could ease it. Tsunade sat back down at her desk, eyes red and face wet, and began to go over Sai's final mission report. 

***

Their brief rest back in Konoha had ended all too soon. 

Usually, Lee was not so keen on staying home; usually, he was excited for his missions. Since his talk with the Kazekage, he had felt more and more doubtful that they would come back from this errand. Whatever the Hokage thought, Lee knew deep down that Naruto was not the one who'd save them. They had to save themselves, they had to work as one to save the shinobi world; putting all their faith in one person wasn't going to accomplish anything. 

He sighed, shouldering his pack and looking around his apartment one last time before departing. He was sure he had everything; he'd checked, double checked, and then triple checked his supplies the night before. He was sure everything was in its place: first aid kit, dumplings, two spare suits, kunai and shuriken and nunchukku, extra bandages for his hands, soldier pills just in case, the standard issue radio and headset, a few unscented hygienic products, and a bedroll. 

There was absolutely nothing missing, but Lee still felt like he shouldn't leave his apartment. It was the feeling of having forgotten something important, but not being able to grasp what that something was that kept him there. Yet he knew he hadn't forgotten a single thing. 

He simply didn't want to follow through with a mission that he didn't agree with. 

Lee was at a loss for what to do with himself, standing on the threshold of his apartment, tottering between the brink of leaving and staying. He had to go, he was a shinobi of Konoha and his duty called him, but was it right? He shook his head. It didn't matter; right or wrong, he had a mission to fulfill. 

He stepped outside, closing the door behind him. His hand shook as he locked his door.

“Focus,” he reminded himself. If he wasn't careful, he'd mess up on their mission and they couldn't afford that. He checked himself once more; he still had everything, nothing had gone missing in the five minutes it had taken him to make up his mind whether to leave or stay. He sighed. 

“I am leaving now,” he said to the door of his apartment, and he turned away. His heart grew heavy as he trudged from his apartment in the pre-dawn light, heading towards the gates of his village once more. Whatever future this mission brought with it, Lee had to keep his spirits up; there was no sense in abandoning all hope just because the Hokage seemed to only have one ounce of it left. Besides, Lee couldn't let himself be distracted; he had a promise to keep, and he always honored his promises.


	11. Abandon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sacrifice must be made in war. Sometimes, life must be sacrificed; sometimes limb. And sometimes, retreat is the only option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Things have been very rough for me lately, so I haven't been able to get much editing done. My birthday was at the beginning of the month, and I went out of town for it but that didn't go well, but I came back and went on short term disability for my mental health, so I'm doing all I can to get myself to a better place. Anyway, I hope that people enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading.

They were so close to their goal now that it had become difficult for Zetsu to maintain the act. He'd found the two remaining jinchuuriki, he'd infiltrated both Konoha and Kumo without either being any the wiser, and the villages were slowly crumbling one by one. Konoha and Suna would destroy each other from within, Kusagakure and Takigakure had already fallen with no survivors, and the forests of Fire were steadily being overrun with Madara's army. 

It was so easy, so simple, and the dance elicited such pleasure. Zetsu wondered how much longer it would be before the enemy finally fell. Perhaps within the month, certainly no longer than two. The wait was almost too much to bear, but he had his orders: maintain his disguises, keep watch, learn all there is to know about the Five Great Nations carefully laid plans, and sabotage when possible. 

Zetsu's attention was now neatly divided between Konoha, Kumo, and the island that hid away the two hosts. He had a hard time focusing on the two villages when the hosts were so close, however. All he had to do was reach out and—

He refrained—after all, he had appearances to keep up and if he alerted either of the two jinchuuriki to the truth too soon it could ruin all of Madara's carefully laid plans. Although, if Zetsu were being honest with himself, he didn't think he'd mind that all too much either. Madara's downfall would be just as entertaining, if less lucrative for him in the long run. Besides, dropping the act would put him in danger and he wasn't willing to risk his life or the vessel he'd managed to obtain. It had been so lucky that the stray wind had carried his little spores from Lightning all the way to this little island, and he didn't want to chance his luck by doing something as foolish as acting out of character. 

The problem with posing in this body, however, was that he lacked any information on hand, and the memories of the host always faded so quickly, like water running off of leaves. There were only a few drops left, not enough to get the full picture. Zetsu knew only two things: that the vessel had cared for Uzumaki Naruto a great deal and that the kid had no idea the war was happening. 

If Zetsu played his cards right, he could easily manipulate Naruto into going along with their plans. When the time was right, when Madara made the call Zetsu would make his move. 

***

The map had curled up at the edges, a shadow falling over the little dot that represented Iwagakure. Kabuto grinned. 

“That should do nicely,” he murmured. Kimimaro shifted beside him. “I think it's time to move forward: I want you to attack Iwagakure. Ensure that all escape routes are monitored; we don't want any accidents like what happened in Kusa, after all.” 

“Of course” Kimimaro agreed. 

“I'm working to rectify the situation. I've sent my army in Kusa to attack Ame. In fact, the village has probably already fallen. I'm sure we'll receive word of it any day now. Then it will be on to Ishigakure, leaving Iwa's closest allies in Konoha, or north in Iron.” He chuckled. “But I trust you won't let any survivors scurry past you, Kimimaro-kun.” 

Kimimaro narrowed his eyes. “I'll kill them all, so that you may continue Orochimaru-sama's dream.” 

Kabuto narrowed his eyes, moving away from Kimimaro. “Yes,” he murmured. “Of course. Run along, Kimimaro-kun. Tell your comrades their new mission. Oh, and kill our guests. We'll need more reinforcements if we're to attack one of the great villages.” 

“It will be done,” Kimimaro said, inclining his head. He departed quickly, leaving Kabuto alone to ponder the map and his plans. He'd found quite a few resources in all the chaos of war, plenty of places to build new hideouts when Madara's plans crumbled. He scanned the map. He rather favored the west for his next plans; there were plenty of people living in the open desert, defenseless people he could use instead of wasting valuable shinobi lives on failed experiments, and Suna would be weak after the war. 

He hummed, tracing a finger down the map, passing through each destroyed village. All that open space between three of the greatest shinobi nations, all the villages and lives lost—he could almost see the villages as they fell, as though the map were a window to let him watch the events unfold. 

Kabuto grinned, picking up the pins that held the map in place, letting it roll closed. 

The destruction of the shinobi world was a beautiful thing to watch, but it was nearing its climax and Kabuto had no desire to be present for Madara's downfall. It was time he made himself scarce, it was time to go back to hiding in the dark places of the world until the war was done. 

***

Eight days in Konoha had been a blessing for Neji's tired eyes, but it hadn't been enough. Now back in the forests, racing through the trees with his Byakugan activated at all times, he could feel the headache forming as his eyes worked to seek out their enemies. It would be another three weeks, possibly another month, before they returned to Konoha; Neji would have to hold out. 

Lee's expression behind him was grim and concentrated—it was the way he looked when he learned new techniques as though this new skill might make him the best, but his expression was tinged with something else, something like fear. It was unlike Lee to let his fear get the better of him. Neji could understand, for he had his own fears to contend with. As they moved farther from Konoha, they had to avoid more and more enemy encampments. If Neji's vision wavered, even for a moment, they could be overwhelmed. It was reason enough for Neji to be afraid; he didn't need more than what his eyes showed him within the forest, but what really unsettled Neji was Lee—loud, rash, over emotional, optimistic Lee who hadn't laughed properly in months; who'd been hospitalized once already; who'd faced down a massive desert tiger and won its affection and trust; who had stood up for the Kazekage despite their history; who was Neji's teammate and best friend, and the only source of hope he sometimes had when things were at their bleakest. And he was afraid. 

Neji was glad Tenten had stayed behind, too saddled down with her own mission that left her crying at night for the loss of innocence and the fear for her charges. Her mission had taken a heavy toll on her, but at least she was safe within the village; at least she wasn't witness to Lee losing his innocence too. It was a heavy price, Neji thought, but one they all eventually had to pay; it was the cost of being shinobi. Tenten understood that, though the knowledge hadn't made it easier on her, and being apart from her teammates had only worsened her temperament. She had been so happy to have them back; so relieved to see Lee's smiling face even if his smile was strained; she'd been so thrilled to have Neji within reach, a silent comfort, and she'd teased him mercilessly about his sunburn. It had been for show though, for Lee's sake and Gai-sensei's. The moment Neji and Tenten had had a moment to themselves she'd started to cry. 

When he'd told her that they'd been given another mission, one that was somehow more dangerous than the last, she'd broken down completely. He'd held her as she cried into his chest, and though it had not been a happy moment, it was all Neji had wanted for weeks: to indulge in Tenten's arms wrapped tightly around him, the smell of her hair filling his nose, her calloused hands touching his face, her chapped lips bruising in their intensity. 

Now, racing through the forests, the memory of that night together kept him going. If he wavered even a fraction, there was no telling how close to danger they would come; his eyes were the only sure way to lead them through the darkness. He could not fail. 

***

Daisuke woke on the second day after his arrival in Ame to the village in chaos: the civilians were closing up their homes and shops, packing as many belongings and supplies as they could in caravans while more shinobi than the day Daisuke had arrived lined the walls surrounding the village. 

The entirety of Ame's shinobi force was on high alert, but Daisuke knew better than to trust in their skill. Nothing could defeat the army spreading across the lands; if the army came before they could leave, then all was lost. 

Mayumi was in hospital the day he woke, still unconscious, but no longer teetering between life and death. The medics who'd tended to her had done their job well: she would live, though her arm had had to be amputated after being infected for weeks. 

Daisuke hung his head in shame, keeping to his own hospital room as the village around him went frantic with the preparations for the evacuation. The hospital was no quieter, but at least Daisuke could hide away from shinobi he would not have considered allies two months ago. Kusa and Ame had kept to themselves over the years, but had always stayed watchful of the other. Ame's strength had always surpassed Kusa's, and so Kusa shinobi had learned to be wary of Ame's ninja; if you weren't cautious they would take you by surprise. Paranoia that one day Ame would declare war on Kusa had been a normal part of life within Daisuke's village. 

It was a bitter irony that Ame had been the only place for Daisuke to seek his salvation. 

On the third day, the council of elders requested an audience with him and he reluctantly left his sister's bedside, trading the comfort of his only family and the cool hospital room for the stuffy and cramped council room, and much poorer company. 

The two elders that made up the council were old and bone-weary; Daisuke thought the old woman looked as though she were made of aged rice paper, ready to crumble at even the gentlest of touches. The other elder was slightly younger, but he too seemed to be knocking on Death's door. 

“Forgive us for intruding on your healing,” the old woman rasped. “We have much need for haste, you understand.” 

Daisuke nodded, careful as always not to give away too much to another village. Even now, with his village gone, he could not shake the habits ingrained in him from his years of service to Kusa. “I understand, Sanada-dono.” 

“Unfortunately, things are not going as smoothly as we would have liked,” the other elder, Yashou, said. He drummed bony fingers on the cracked wood table, impatience in every staccato rap of his nails. “The timing is dreadful, what with the passing of Kaiou-dono and having just sent troops to the border. As you can see, we are short on man power.” 

Daisuke kept his expression blank as he tried to decipher the readiness with which the elders divulged this information. He remembered himself quickly though; he and his sister were all that was left of Kusa. There was nothing left for him to protect. 

“I wish I had arrived sooner,” he admitted. “I was unable to. The forests between Kusa and Ame are overrun. I hid out near the mountains of Earth Country for as long as I could, before it became apparent that my sister would not live if I didn't seek out help.” 

“Do not misunderstand,” Sanada croaked. “We are grateful for your arrival. If Kusa has been overrun as you say, then we need to be aware. We should have prepared better, but alas, we thought the Five Great Nations would be enough to keep Madara busy; we thought he would leave us alone.” 

Daisuke wished that had been the case. Maybe it would have if only the Great Nations hadn't called on them for help; maybe they could all have been left out of this war. Bitterness settled in him then; it was not much yet, but given time it could ruin him. 

“If Kaiou-dono were here,” Sanada said, “he would hate the idea of evacuating our village like this.” She shook her head. “But we truly are without any other options, however, we are prepared to make a last stand.” 

“That's madness,” Daisuke whispered, his eyes wide. “There's no fighting them. They'll slaughter you.” 

Yashou nodded. “Yes, they will slaughter any who remain. But there is no honor in fleeing without a fight. We cannot just abandon our village. The Great Nations have failed to keep the enemy at bay, and so we are left with no other option but to stand and fight.” 

Daisuke shook his head. “Why would you—you're people—”

“Civilians—as you have seen, I'm sure—are being evacuated, along with half of the remaining shinobi here. We can't expect civilians to make the trek to Ishigakure without protection, but the rest will stay here and fight.” 

“And you?” Daisuke asked, narrowing his eyes. 

Sanada and Yashou both laughed, reedy laughs that sent chills down Daisuke's back. “We are old, and neither of us were ever shinobi. Would you expect an old woman to stand and fight?” 

“You can't do this, please. I beg you. The moment the enemy moves on Ame your forces will be overwhelmed. They won't stand a chance. It's foolish to stand and fight when you could save your people! Have all your remaining shinobi escort the citizens of Ame. Don't order them—”

“That is quite enough!” Yashou snapped. “You are a guest in this village, not a military liaison. We did not call you here so you could give us a lesson in military strategy.” 

Daisuke straightened. “Then why did you call me up here?” 

“Upon your arrival, you said you knew what the enemy looked like. The Great Nations have given us little to go off of and we would appreciate any further help in identifying this army of dead shinobi.” 

Daisuke forced back his objections. They would not listen to reason, after all. He might as well aid those who would make it out alive; it was the least he could do. “The enemy don't look much different from us, but I noticed—it's not easy to see it, but they're skin is slightly off. It's like they're made of earth, not flesh, but the color is almost grey. You wouldn't notice it if you weren't looking for it, if you didn't know to be on guard. Also, their eyes aren't quite focused. It's not obvious though, so I wouldn't rely on that.” He paused, thinking back on the memories of the attack. It had all happened so fast: one minute he and Mayumi had been standing watch on the battlements, the next Mayumi was choking back a cry as a kunai embedded itself in her left arm. 

The enemy had swarmed, and it had been all Daisuke could do to find a place to hide. They almost hadn't made it. Daisuke had come upon a man with pupil-less, grey eyes and long brown hair. He had looked at them with his eyes, veins around his forehead and said, “Go. Run and hide. Don't come back.” 

Daisuke shuddered at the memory of the man. When he'd looked at Daisuke, it was like he was seeing through him, right to his heart; but beneath that, he'd noticed that those all-seeing eyes had looked out-of-focus, as though the man had been sedated hours ago and were finally coming out of it. It had been the only real encounter he'd had with the enemy and it left him with little else to offer the council. 

“Is that all?” Sanada pried, leaning forward, her beady eyes boring into him. 

Daisuke shook himself of the memories. “Forgive me, I was trying to recall... It's very difficult to pinpoint, but they're movements are stiffer, unnatural. It's as though they're puppets. They still fight as effectively as living shinobi—more so since they cannot die—but there is a strangeness about the way they move.” 

“That's it? That's all you have to offer us?” 

“I am afraid so.” 

Sanada barked a laugh. “You promised us information—”

“And I have delivered it,” Daisuke countered, clenching his fists. “There is nothing you could do to me now. I have no village and no comrades waiting for me; it is only me and my sister. If you wish to throw us out into the waiting arms of the enemy after hearing this information—then so be it.” _And may the gods see you ruined for such dishonor._

Yashou shook his head. “Now, now. There's no need to be so defensive. You did, indeed, deliver on your promise. We will share this information with our shinobi.” 

“Was there anything else you required of me?”

“Oh, yes,” Sanada said, pulling something from her robes. She slid a wrapped cloth across the table towards Daisuke. He stepped forward, picking it up to unwrap the item within. “We thought, perhaps, you could do with this given your current circumstances.”

Daisuke blinked down at the hitai-ate in his hands, the silver plate glinting with the symbol of Amegakure. His hands shook as he re-wrapped the forehead protector, its shining brilliance and offer of a new home hidden away but still burning in his mind. He took in a shaky breath and bowed. 

“Do you accept our offer?” 

“I—” He swallowed past the thick lump in his throat, his eyes burning. “I am humbled and honored that you would take me in as one of your own. My sister and I will gladly take the oaths of Amegakure.” 

Yashou and Sanada were grinning when he straightened, and it made him wonder if perhaps he'd made the wrong choice. He could not deny that the two elders did not inspire in him the feelings of loyalty and duty expected of a shinobi dedicated to protecting a hidden village, but perhaps he could learn that in time.

He tucked away the hitai-ate and bowed again. “If I may, I would like to return to my sister.” 

“Please do,” Sanada said. “Oh, and be prepared to take up arms. Your sister will be leaving with the caravans, but as a shinobi of Amegakure, you will be expected to defend your village.” 

Daisuke felt as though he'd been submerged in an ice cold bath. The hitai-ate in his back pocket no longer felt like a beacon for a brighter future; it felt like a death sentence. “I—”

“As the only shinobi in the village who has seen the enemy, we will need you to assist the others, you understand? This is your village now, Daisuke. Your sister will be taken care of, though, rest assured.” 

He forced himself to relax, donning the blank mask that so threw others off. Beneath the words was a threat: if you don't do this, we won't help your sister. Daisuke was no fool; perhaps this was his punishment for abandoning his own people. 

“When should I report to my post?” 

Sanada and Yashou exchanged looks. “In an hour,” Sanada said. “Dismissed.” 

She waved her tiny, wrinkly hand as though swatting away a fly. Daisuke was excess baggage to this council, but he was baggage they could and would use to the fullest. He bowed once more, keeping his anger boxed up, and left. His new forehead protector moved with each step, pressing against his leg from its resting place, a reminder of the life that had been stolen from him and the life he'd just been trapped within. 

***

“This place is a fucking mausoleum,” Atsui muttered, kicking aside a dead rat. 

Kiba snorted. “Tell me about it. There's nothing he—” He froze, his nose stinging with the tang of blood. It wasn't fresh, but compared to the staleness in the air and the smell of death all around it was overpowering to his sensitive nose. Atsui glanced back at him, frowning. 

“What is it?” 

“Blood,” Kiba muttered. “It's not fresh, but it can't be more than a week old.” 

Atsui's eyes went wide and he quickly tapped his radio headset. “We've found something.” There was a brief moment of static, then the buzz of a voice. It was difficult to make out, but Kiba thought it sounded like Darui's. 

“S-ry. W-t—hear—ou.” 

“Dammit,” Atsui growled. “Something's messing up the frequency. I can barely hear what he's saying.” 

Kiba frowned. “We should go find them. I can lead us back here once we've met up with them.” 

“You sure about that?” Atsui asked, looking skeptical. “This place isn't exactly easy to navigate.” 

“Don't doubt the nose, man,” Kiba said, tapping his nose. “I'll find it.” 

They walked in silence, Akamaru sniffing on ahead. Kiba kept his ears pricked for any sound, hoping they'd run into their teammates and not any one of Orochimaru's many experiments. Kiba didn't fancy facing off against another two-in-one shinobi that could turn itself into a monster. He shuddered at the memory. At least he and Akamaru were stronger now. 

Still a sense of dread crept up his spine as they walked, their footsteps echoing in the dark corridors. 

“—hear a thing. They could be in trouble,” Darui was saying up ahead, followed by hurried footsteps. 

“I'm sure they're fine,” Tsume said, but her voice was strained. “If something had happened, we'd have heard Akamaru's warning.” 

Kiba picked up the pace, calling ahead, “We're fine! We just found something.” 

Tsume and Darui, followed by the rest of their teammates, turned the corner. Relief was clear in Tsume's face, but she quickly covered it up, snorting. “Told ya.” 

“Gee, thanks for the concern, mom.” 

“I raised you better than to let an empty building get the better of you,” she said, her voice clipped. “Now, what'd you find?” 

“Blood.” Kiba led the team back to the place he'd first smelled the blood. His mother and sister and their ninken sniffed the air. 

“Not that old, but not so fresh,” Hana noted. “It's coming from in there.” 

Kiba nodded. “I don't think there's anything in there, though. Other than the blood, I don't smell anyone.”

“Fan out,” Tsume ordered. “I trust your nose, Kiba, but better safe than sorry.” 

The group fanned out, surrounding the large metal door. Tsume stepped forward, testing the handle. “If it's locked, we'll need to break it down,” she muttered. “But...” 

She tried the handle and with a creek the door opened onto a dark, empty room. Tsume narrowed her eyes, stepping inside. Kiba felt his heart flutter like an unhappy butterfly trying fly free from a trapped jar, but he clamped down on the increased rate quickly. His mother knew what she was doing, he didn't need to worry. 

Tsume's hand slid along the wall and, after a brief moment and a click, lights flickered on, bright and fluorescent, illuminating a large room with empty shelves, old utensils covered in blood, and a metal table with restraints and a sheet spotted red. 

“Well, well,” Tsume muttered. “Looks like we found our mad scientist's workroom.” 

Goosebumps rose along Kiba's skin, chills running the length of his body. The room might have been empty, but it made all his instincts scream at him to run. Instead, slowly, the group all filed into the room, scanning the walls and remaining equipment. 

“What the fuck happened in here?” Atsui said. “This place is—”

“A torture chamber?” Hana offered. 

“Something like that.” 

“I don't like this,” Samui murmured, picking up a scalpel. “What do you think he was working on? There's so much blood...” 

Darui hummed, leaning over the table, frowning. He pulled a cloth from his weapons pouch, using it to lift something from the restraints at the head of the table. “I'd say,” he said softly, “that he was working on someone. I found some hairs.” 

The team gathered around Darui, peering at the cloth. It was a bloody clump of matted hair, mostly an ugly shade of brown except for a small bit of brilliant white-blond at one end. Kiba swallowed his rising fear with difficulty. “Do you think—whoever it was...do you think they're still here?” 

“You think he left the body?” 

Kiba shook his head. “No, I mean I've seen what Orochimaru can do to people. He turns them into monsters. He can give them powers and—what if he left them behind? What if he left them here for anyone stupid enough to come looking through his things?” 

Silence met his words, tension filling the air around them. Kiba worried his lip, glancing between his family and the Kumo shinobi. 

“We haven't smelled anything, Kiba,” Tsume said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “And if something is here, we'll fight it. Whoever or whatever this thing is, it's one against all of us. Do you really think anything Orochimaru created is strong enough to defeat all of us?” 

Kiba let out a nervous laugh. “Nah, I—never mind. It's silly. But...what happened to them?” 

“Who?”

“Whoever that hair belongs to?” 

“I don't know, but maybe there's something in here that can tell us.” 

Karui snorted. “Like what? We've been searching for hours and all we've found are old bones and a room covered in blood. There's nothing here.” 

“Perhaps, but this room has so far offered us the most information. If we're to find anything more, it'll be in here. Now get to work.” 

They spread out, ninken sniffing every inch of the room as the shinobi riffled through drawers. The bright light cast a dim glow farther back, towards the end of the room. Kiba eyed the large curtain at the back, his stomach in knots as he carefully pulled it aside. He didn't know what he expected to find—a monster, a dead body—but he hadn't thought he'd find something as unimposing as an empty glass tank. He frowned, looking it over. The glass was scratched all to hell and the metal lid dented in places, as though someone had been trapped inside. There were heavy padlocks on all four sides, but nothing inside to keep trapped. At least not anymore. From the sides, there were large tubes that traveled from the tank all the way to a generator built into the wall. Kiba sniffed the air and sneezed. It smelled overwhelmingly of salt. He rubbed his nose, grumbling to himself as he leaned forward to look over the generator. There were a few buttons and levers, but nothing was labeled. He shrugged, moving away. 

“I found something!” Hana's voice filled the room, echoing off the walls. 

“What is it?” Tsume asked, rushing to her side. 

Hana was holding a thick notebook with pages sticking out as though they'd been added in and a clasp holding it all together. She held it out to her mother, looking rather pleased. “Looks like our mad scientist accidentally left his notebook behind.” 

Tsume took the notebook, opening the clasp. A few pages fell out, which Hana picked up as her mother looked through it. “I'll be dammed,” she said. “Good work, Hana.” She took the pages back from her daughter, stuffing them into the book again and pocketing it. “We'll take this back to the Hokage—”

“Wait just a dammed minute,” Omoi snapped. “Why should you be the ones taking it back? We should be taking it to the Raikage! After all, it's Kumo that found out about all this.” 

Tsume growled. “And it's Konoha that has the best medical shinobi of all time. The Hokage is the only person who could possibly figure out what's in these pages. And Orochimaru is one of our missing nin, not yours. He's our responsibility.” 

Omoi narrowed his eyes, but Samui intercepted before he could speak. “She's right, Omoi. Leave it.” 

Omoi huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. But the Raikage's not gonna like it.”

“Then have the Raikage send his grievances in a letter if he so chooses,” Tsume snapped, glaring at Omoi. “We don't have time for this. Has anyone found anything else of importance? If not, I think we should go. The rumors your comrade spoke of came from the outlying towns, correct? We should check in on those.” 

Darui nodded. “Agreed.” 

Tsume marched from the room with Kuromaru hot on her heels. One by one, the others followed after her. Kiba glanced one last time at the bloody sheet on the table, his stomach churning, then followed after the others. At least once they were outside, the fresh air would chase away the stench of blood, even if it wouldn't chase away the sense of fear that had followed him since stepping into this horrible place. 

***

It wasn't a no-contact mission, but as far as Chouji knew they hadn't heard from Ino in over a month. He'd counted thirty-four days since they'd last heard from her, and he knew it would only take her a day, two at most, to travel from Wave Country to the next port city. The Hokage had looked resigned when Chouji had gone to see her that day; the bags under her eyes were more prominent than the last time he'd seen her, and the frown lines around her mouth more pronounced than he'd ever remembered. When he'd entered her office, she hadn't even waited for him to ask the question she knew was coming; she'd simply said, “No word, Chouji.” 

He'd left without another word, not even bothering with his usual follow up request: send him on a rescue mission to find Ino. 

The Hokage had shot him down exactly twenty times. After the first two weeks had passed without word from Ino, Chouji had started pestering her to let him search for her, but she always had the same excuses: “We need you here.” 

He didn't understand it, though. What was he doing? How was one person going to make any difference? He hadn't been given a special mission like his peers, he hadn't been sent off to Suna or to liason with the smaller villages; he hadn't even been sent off on a godforsaken suicide mission. It was as though the council and the Hokage thought he was useless. Maybe he was, but he was sick of waiting around to find out that Ino had died; he was sick of being left out and being too cowardly to speak up; he was sick of the fear and the doubt and the nightmares; he was so sick of it all. 

The Hokage might not have answers, but that didn't mean Chouji couldn't find them. 

He had a bag packed an hour after his visit with the Hokage. He was just getting ready to leave through his bedroom window when Shikamaru knocked on his door. Chouji quickly stuffed his packed bag under his bed, but not before the door opened. 

Chouji glanced up to find Shikamaru looking at him, a weary sigh escaping him. “Chouji,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “Come on, don't do this.” 

“How did you know?” 

Shikamaru shrugged. “The Hokage called me to her office. You're not exactly subtle.” 

Chouji huffed. “So, what? That's it? I should just—accept it?” 

“We don't know anything,” Shikamaru hedged. Chouji let out a bitter chuckle. 

“I don't have to be a genius to know what this means. I'm not gonna just wait around until the war's over and she's still missing in action. I won't do that to her.” 

“This won't accomplish anything.” 

“How do you know that?!” Chouji shouted, his throat constricting. “How do you know that I won't find her? Maybe she was injured? Maybe—maybe she's out there alone and scared and hurt. Just because you stopped caring about her doesn't mean I have! I'll never stop—”

Chouji was cut off by Shikamaru's fist colliding with his face. Chouji stumbled back, reeling. 

“Don't you dare,” Shikamaru said, his voice shaking. His eyes were narrowed, but Chouji could still see the tears glistening at the edges. He felt the tightness in his throat worsen, his own eyes burning. “Don't you dare act like you're the only one—she's my teammate too, Chouji.” 

“I—you've barely had time—you're off running errands and making strategies and treaties. You don't know what it's like, not knowing—”

“I spent fifty-seven days away from here,” Shikamaru said softly, his voice so strained it made Chouji's throat feel tight. “Fifty-seven days. That's fifty-seven days of not knowing if the team I took with me would live or die; one-thousand three-hundred-sixty-eight hours of not knowing if I'd come home to find both my teammates dead or missing in action; that's eighty-two-thousand-eighty minutes of worrying that I'd come home to find Konoha in ruins.” He shook his head. “Don't talk to me about not knowing. You have no right.” 

Chouji's lip trembled. “I-I'm sorry.” 

“Don't be sorry and don't be stupid. I'm not going to let you leave, Chouji. I won't let you. I can't—I can't lose you, too.” 

Chouji's heart sank, tears falling down his face. “S-she's really gone, isn't she?” 

Shikamaru's eyes were bright, but he managed to keep from crying. He reached out, placing a hand on Chouji's shoulder, gripping tighter than necessary. “I-I think so, Chouji.” 

He hadn't cried properly since he was very small. He could remember being twelve and crying because Ino had called him fat; she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and she'd called him fat as though it were the worst thing someone could be. He wished he could go back to simpler times, he missed when that had been the worst pain he'd ever known. 

Shikamaru held him as he sobbed, muttering, “I know, I know,” over and over again because that was all he could say in the wake of their grief. There was nothing either of them could do to bring her back and Chouji didn't know if he could accept that. 

***

It started in the early morning, just as the sun was creeping over the horizon three days after she had reported to the Raikage. She had not slept that night, forgoing sleep in favor of nursing guilt and the creeping sense of being watched. She had felt eyes on her for the last three days, everywhere she went, and the knowledge had finally gripped her just before dawn on the third day: whoever her brother was now he knew that she had outed him and he was coming for her. 

Haruna reported to the wall, as was her duty, ten minutes before sunrise. The Captain of the Guard was not scheduled to be on watch this early, but her brother was waiting for her nonetheless, his gaze turned towards the village, a hunger in his eyes that hadn't been there before. In the faint light of dawn, she thought his eyes looked green, thought she saw a faint green tinge to his dark skin; she could swear she even heard the rustle of leaves in the way he moved when he turned to look at her. When his hungry gaze fell on her, she knew that it was too late for Kumogakure. 

She had failed to save her village. 

“Haruna,” her brother hissed, and it was not his voice but the scratching of dead leaves blowing in the wind.

She narrowed her eyes, meeting his hungry gaze in defiance. “Little brother.” 

His unnaturally green eyes widened briefly, then a slow smile curled like vines on his handsome face. “So. That's it then.” 

Haruna shifted, sneering. “You didn't do your research very well.” 

Her brother's laugh had always been rich and loud; the man before her laughed low and cruel, the deepness of her brother's usual laugh still there but nothing like him. It sent chills up her spine, and she quickly assessed her surroundings: thirty yards away in either direction were guards posted, watching the mountains surrounding their village intently. There were twenty shinobi within range, a large enough number that Haruna was certain that even if she failed, they would kill this impostor. 

That laugh grew louder, still cruel, but less quiet. He turned away from her, looking to the shinobi to his right. Haruna slipped a kunai from her weapons pouch, but before she could move her brother's hand came up—not a hand anymore but dark vines wrapping around her neck. Her kunai clattered to the ground and the monster before her kicked it away, turning his gaze back to her. 

“Did you think I wasn't prepared for this?” 

Haruna choked, clawing at the vines. She had five minutes before he crushed her wind pipe if he continued this slow, brutal pace. 

“Your comrades are dead, dear sister,” he hissed. “Kumo is mine.” 

The guards just past her would-be killer turned towards the village as sunlight filtered through the clouds. She saw with sudden clarity that their eyes were the same unnatural green of her brother's. Below the battlements she heard the heavy sound of marching feet: an army was approaching. 

Haruna's fingers found purchase and with a shock of electricity, she ripped the vines from her throat. She fell to the ground, gasping for breath, her head spinning, but she forced herself to her feet quickly, unsheathing the sword at her back. “I won't—let you—take—my village.” 

“Do you think you alone can stop me?” he asked, looking down at her. The vines that had once been his arm writhed, snaking close to her, but she swiped at them, infusing her blade with lightning and sending them back. At her feet, a few of the shredded vines burst into flames and her enemy took a step back, eyes narrowing. 

Haruna raised an eyebrow, shifting her foot. “You were prepared to take the village,” she said, slowly nudging the burning vines with her foot. “But we were prepared to fight you.” She let out a loud cry, then kicked the flaming vines into his face, rushing forward to slice his arm of vines from his shoulder. Her sword crackled, the vines fell, burning where her blade had touched them. 

“Such confidence,” he hissed, clutching his ruined shoulder. He glared at her, the look so like her brother when he'd been young and petulant that Haruna thought she would crumble. “You cannot defeat our army, you'll die and your village will fall. But just think, you can join your brother soon.” 

Haruna let out a cry, surging forward. Below the army of the undead had begun their assault, running up the ramparts and coming over the battlements. Haruna paid them no attention as she swiped and slashed at the monster that had taken her brother. He dodged her attacks, his mocking laughter echoing around her. Vines erupted in the stone battlements, slowing her down as they tried to wind around her ankles. She swiped at them, moving as fast as she could. 

Thunder shook the village as below her the Raikage arrived, haloed by his lightening armor and shinobi gathered around him, ready to meet the invaders. The army of the undead met them head on, weapons clashing loudly. Screams rent the air as the first Kumo shinobi fell, but Haruna kept her focus, dodging vines and swiping at her opponent. 

“Such fools,” he said. “Even if you kill me, it will do you no good. I'll live on. This body was just a tool.” 

Haruna let out an angry cry, rushing forward. “I will kill you,” she growled. “You will meet your end by my hand, I swear it.” She extended the chakra from her sword up her arms and to the rest of her body, relishing in the way his smile melted from his face. His vines burned on contact and she surged forward, sliding her sword into his gut with ease. “I will find you no matter how far you run, no matter where you hide, and I will kill you.” 

She pulled her sword up, splitting him in half. The body crumpled to the ground in a heap of mulch, the smell overpowering. She forced down the sickness and guilt that rose in her; it was not her brother that she had just killed, he had been dead for a long time now. 

Haruna turned, facing the fighting along the battlements. The guards along the wall dropped, their bodies turning to mulch like her brother's had done, but the undead army continued on, tearing through Kumo's forces. There was no chance they could win this battle; their best bet was to retreat. 

She spotted the Raikage below, his body still wreathed in lighting, his hands around the necks of two undead shinobi. As she watched, the dead men the Raikage held burst into flames, their bodies turning to dust. Silence spread through the armies below, the chaos all around stilled, and suddenly Haruna could see a new hope. She jumped from the battlements, joining the fray as all around her lighting crackled and fires erupted where it connected with an undead enemy.

Haruna took heart as she cut down enemies and set them aflame. An hour into the fighting, they had pushed the enemy back over the walls and their victory seemed assured. A cry went up around the Raikage. “Victory!” 

It spread through the ranks, loud and beautiful, like a song.

And then, beyond the battlements, from within the surrounding mountains, a shadow fell, moving towards Kumo at alarming speed. Silence fell once more and the Raikage watched grimly as a new wave of enemy forces approached. 

“What do we do?” Haruna asked. “Should we retreat?” 

The Raikage clenched his jaw. “We fight. That is all we can do.” 

***

Letters during war were an ill omen. They brought bad luck along with whatever disastrous news hid within their scrolls. Oonoki did not advertise it, but he was a superstitious man and he kept many good luck charms in his offices and on his person, hidden beneath his robes. As the Tsuchikage, most bad luck came directly to him with the morning's reports; and bad luck had not been sparing during the war. Leaving his village twice in just over two months, being forced to humble himself in the eyes of weaker villages, allying himself with the likes of Suna's monster as though years of distrust could be tossed aside... The list went on. It was terrible luck, and he was sure he hadn't seen the end of it. 

And so when a scroll arrived on his desk with Amegakure's seal, he did not expect happy news. However, he had not braced himself for just how devastating the news would truly be. He hadn't known quite what to expect given that Konoha and Suna had been the ones to dispatch an envoy to the village, but it was nothing like what he'd uncovered within the scroll. 

He shook his head, numbly, eyes wide. “N-no,” he whispered. “This cannot—no.” 

“Grandfather?” Kurotsuchi's voice startled him, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the words before him. “Grandfather, what is it?” 

Oonoki shook his head, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He was assaulted by memories: the last time he had seen Kitsuchi, ordering him to be the lead envoy to Ishi and Kusa; when his son had married; when his son had first become a shinobi; Kitsuchi's first words; the first time he'd held him. 

He had not thought he was sending his son to his death, he had not ever dreamed that such a catastrophe would befall his family. “M-my son, not my son,” he murmured. There were no tears, he had long hardened himself against such displays of emotion. It was a weakness shinobi could not afford. He had never thought that he would see the day that he would want to cry openly. He shook his head, the words blurring on the page, and finally he looked up into Kurotsuchi's grim face. She did not need him to tell her the news. 

“Father,” she said softly. “He's not coming home, is he?” 

Oonoki could not remember what it was to feel happy. He'd been happy moments before, or at least, he had not been sad. But now his mind could not summon the memory of happiness. His son was dead; there could be no happiness after that. 

“What's happened?” Kurotsuchi asked, her words hard edged. 

“Kusagakure,” he answered, his voice distant to his own ears. “It fell. The enemy—” He rose suddenly, dropping the scroll, anger rising in him. “No. We will not let them have this victory. We will take back Kusa from them—” Oonoki could not think past one goal: vengeance. He would avenge his son, he would find the army that had killed him and lay waste to them, and then he would find their master and he would make him suffer a slow death. 

“Grandfather, don't do this,” Kurotsuchi said, stepping in his path. “You're not thinking clearly—”

“Step aside. I am your Tsuchikage and this is my will.” 

“Your will is misguided and will get more people killed,” she said firmly, standing her ground. “I will not be intimidated by an old man as small as you, and I will not let you send more shinobi to their deaths in your grief.”

“I will do as I please! I am the Tsuchikage, my will be done, dammit!” Spit flew as he yelled. He could see nothing but his vengance now. “I will not be spoken to like this! Insubordination! You dishonor your father—”

He heard more than felt the sound of Kurotsuchi slapping him across the face. His skin tingled, and he was sure to have a bruise later, but his rage was quelled and the soul-crushing emptiness returned. He let out a dry sob. “You would have me ignore the death of my son, your own father?” 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I would have you think clearly. If you send our forces to Kusa, we will have fewer here to protect the village—as it is we are already spread thin with border patrols and guard duty and all the other missions we have had to assign. If you send more forces to attack Kusa, then we will be permanently weakened. The other great nations will become stronger than us, even Suna.” 

The Tsuchikage sneered. “Ha! Not likely. Suna was always small, and now it's been devastated by the war. There is no way we could be as weak as Suna.” 

“If you send more forces to Kusa, then we will be as weak, if not weaker than Suna. There is no wisdom in grief.” 

Oonoki closed his eyes, nodding slowly. “You—are right, dammit all. When did you become so wise?” 

“About the same time you became so old,” she said lightly. Oonoki looked up into his grandaughter's face and saw for the first time that she was fighting against the grief, too. He reached out his hand, taking hers. 

“I am sorry for shouting at you, Kurotsuchi.” 

“And I guess I'm sorry for slapping you,” she said, a small, sad smile on her face. 

“We will not let his death go unpunished, but we will wait.” 

Kurotsuchi nodded. “Perhaps, during the war we could stage an attack on Kusa. Were there survivors?” 

“Two, according to Sanada.” 

Kurotsuchi's smile turned calculating. “Then we will take Kusagakure for ourselves. We could use it to strengthen Iwagakure. We could use it as a trade post for villages farther away, we could use it to spread our reach. We could become the greatest shinobi village, grandfather.” 

Oonoki hummed thoughtfully, a slow smile crossing his face. “Iwagakure, the greatest of the villages.” 

“And you the greatest of all Kage.” 

“And Kitsuchi avenged.” 

***

They'd made it to the rendezvous point in good time, despite the caution they'd had to exhibit while traveling through the forest. Gai was relieved they'd made it this far without incident, but his concerns would not be assuaged until they completed their task. 

His chief concern at the moment, however, was wondering where the Kumo shinobi they were meant to rendezvous with were. He exchanged wary looks with Kakashi, while Lee tended to Neji who's vision had started to blur the day before. If Neji's eyes didn't hold out for the remainder of their mission, then Gai woud have even more to worry about than their late allies. 

Very late allies, judging by the time. 

“We've been here for five hours,” Gai said softly to Kakashi. Kakashi shrugged, cool as ever. It irritated Gai endlessly, but he didn't have time for that now. 

“We can wait until tomorrow,” Kakashi said. “Neji needs rest and you're still recovering.” 

Gai's left eye twitched. Damn Kakashi for being so observant. “I'm at the top of my game!” Gai said, his voice rising just above a whisper. “I'll prove it to you. First one to—”

There was movement and Gai fell silent. The four men had weapons out before they'd had a chance to register where the noise was coming from. After a moment of tense silence, Neji shook his head. “Just a mouse,” he said, deactivating his Byakugan once more. 

Kakashi hummed. “Lucky.” 

“I do not like this,” Gai muttered, glancing back at his exhausted pupil. Neji's eyes were bloodshot with dark bruises around them. If they didn't make it to Kumo soon, Gai knew they would not have Neji's Byakugan for the return journey. He sighed. “We'll stay until dawn,” he announced. “Neji, rest. Once we are sure that our allies are not coming, we shall continue on.” 

“Do you think they were attacked?” Lee asked. His gaze was intent on the forest around them, his mouth drawn down in a severe line. Gai had noticed it before, but the change the war had wrought in Lee was like a punch to the gut each and every time he observed it. 

“Very likely,” Kakashi said. “I'll take first watch. You three should rest.” 

“Yes!” Gai exclaimed in an excited whisper, determined to raise their spirits. “Rest will invigorate us!” 

Lee gave a wan smile. “I am not very tired. Perhaps I should assist Kakashi-sensei.” 

Gai stifled a sigh. “That is an excellent idea, Lee!” He gave Lee a thumbs up, one that Lee barely noticed and didn't return as he made his way to Kakashi's side to offer his help. Kakashi sent Lee to watch from the south, while he watched the north. Gai knelt beside Neji, suddenly feeling his years. 

“We shouldn't delay,” Neji muttered. “They aren't coming.” 

“Perhaps,” Gai said. “But at the very least your eyes can rest. If they do not arrive, then we will need your eyes even more.” 

Neji sighed. “Yes,” he agreed. “We will.” 

***

She'd been away from home for over two months and cooped up for fifty days; it had felt like so much longer than that, but finally— _finally_ —it was time to go home. Sakura packed the serum carefully, ensured that it was protected, and then sealed it with a jutsu.

“That's everything,” she said to the empty room, no longer hers. Not that it had ever been hers, not really. She'd only borrowed it, she'd never really been home here. 

The thought of home filled Sakura with both joy and dread. It would take them two weeks to make the trek back to Konoha, and anything could happen during that time. In fact, something could have happened four days ago and they wouldn't know until tomorrow when they'd already be gone. Sakura pushed down the fears; she couldn't let those thoughts distract her. If she started to believe the worst, then the worst really would come to pass. 

Instead, as she shouldered her pack, she tried to remember all the good things about Konoha, all the things she'd missed: the sunshine and warm summer breeze that always carried with it the smell of the forest, her friends' smiling faces, the Hokage's office and the way Tsunade would look at her so proudly, the smell of Ichiraku. With a pang, she forced her thoughts away from the ramen stand; it always sparked thoughts of Naruto, and those thoughts would not help her now. She could not risk afford any distractions on the return journey and thoughts of him would certainly send her into a downward spiral of fear and doubt. 

Sakura couldn't afford that, not now when she carried their most important weapon. 

Upstairs, she could hear the others milling about, waiting eagerly to see the sun for the first time in far too long. Sakura stopped, closing her eyes as she listened to the voices of her comrades. She could pretend she was in Konoha already, that the voices were that of her old friends': there was Ino's laugh and her bright smile, Sai had made a terrible joke that Sakura would probably hit him for; Lee was making a loud declaration, challenging Neji to a match of some-sort only to be turned down as Tenten laughed at her teammate's antics; Kiba was laughing loudly, nudging Hinata and raising his eyebrows, making her blush, as Shino stood quietly watching; Chouji was eating his BBQ, not a care in the world, while Shikamaru watched clouds roll by. 

It was such a nice scene. Sakura wanted to believe that life could be that simple again.

“Sakura, are you coming or what? Don't tell me you're gonna miss this place!” Himawari called, the smile in her voice making Sakura long for home even more. Himawari, for all that she was nothing like Ino, still reminded Sakura of her best friend. It was in the way Himawari looked at her, the way she smiled—like Sakura was important, special even. Ino had been the first person to make her feel like more than just a big forehead. She hoped that Ino wasn't too mad at her for taking so long to return home. It would be so like them to pick a fight over something as silly and out of their control as that; the thought made Sakura smile. 

“Yeah,” she called, making her way up the stairs. “I'm coming.” 

***

They were about a day's travel from the capitol of Lightning Country and just over a day away from Kumo itself. Since entering Lighting, Lee had felt on edge, as though he were trapped inside a glass jar that was slowly running out of air. Something bad was coming, it was all just a matter of when. With Neji's eyes having given out the previous day, Lee was sure they would cross paths with the enemy any moment. 

The capitol drew steadily nearer, a great city at the base of the mountain range that Kumo lay hidden within. It was still far off, but the capitol was a welcome sight. Lee could see the Daimyo's palace from their location, an ornate building in stark white and pale blues like the sky. 

They stopped a mile outside of the city's limits to rest and go over their plans. Lee stood on the outskirts of the group, staring at the imposing mountain range, his mind elsewhere, drifting from Naruto to Konoha to the Kazekage to Tenten as quickly as the clouds drifted overhead. His thoughts were muddled and he felt that he were trying to grasp at an idea that he couldn't quite reach. 

“It is a beautiful sight, indeed!” Gai-sensei said in a loud whisper, suddenly at his side. 

Lee nodded. “How far is it to Kumo from here?” 

“About a day and a half, I should think. Kumogakure, from what I understand, is far back in the mountains. With the terrain, it'll slow us down, but that will certainly be no trouble for us! Right, Lee?!” 

“Of course not,” he agreed, but his heart wasn't in it. He could feel Gai-sensei's eyes on him, but even under such scrutiny Lee didn't have it in him to believe the optimism he usually spouted. The mission, the war—all of it weighed too heavily on his mind.

“Lee,” Gai-sensei said, his voice suddenly serious. “Let's take a walk.” 

Lee frowned, glancing at his sensei. “But—that is dangerous! We should stay with the group.” 

“We will not go far—we will keep them in sight—but I would like to have a word with you.” 

Lee stifled a sigh. He'd known his mood had not gone unnoticed, but he'd thought that with the mission at hand he might be able to avoid a lecture from Gai-sensei. He should not have underestimated his sensei's determination and dedication to his philosophies. 

They walked together in silence until they were well out of earshot. Lee braced himself as Gai-sensei slowed his pace. 

“It is truly beautiful,” he said, his voice gentle with reverence, yet tinged with sadness. “I only wish that circumstances were different. Perhaps you would appreciate its beauty then.” 

“I do appreciate its beauty, Gai-sensei!” he objected. “I am simply...distracted.” 

“You have been distracted for quite some time, Lee. I should have spoken with you sooner—before we left Konoha. No, even sooner than that; I should have spoken with you before the war.” He sighed heavily, turning to Lee. He raised his hand, gripping Lee's shoulder. “You are very important to me, Lee. I have only ever wanted what's best for you and because of that I thought that I should prolong the inevitable. Now I see that was a mistake.” 

Lee's frown deepened as that feeling of foreboding that had dogged him every step of their journey increased. This was not the start of one of his sensei's usual speeches, not by a long shot.

“Lee, what has been bothering you?” 

“I—a lot of things, I suppose,” he hedged, glancing back at Neji and Kakashi-sensei. “The war, of course.” He braced himself before he added, “And I am worried for the people I care about. Neji has pushed himself so much. He does not say exactly what he sees in the forests, but I know. Our home... It is not ours anymore. And Tenten—she is not the same. She is so sad now. She tried to hide it from me, but I could tell. She did not smile the same when I saw her last.” Lee swallowed. “And Sakura-san has not come home yet. If something has happened to her—” He shook his head, his eyes burning. “And then there is the Kazekage and the mission to Suna. And now this mission.” Lee couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. He glared at the mountain range before them, as though it were personally at fault. 

“What is it about this mission that upsets you?” 

Lee shook his head. “I—it is wrong of me to feel this way, but I do not think this is a good idea. Naruto-kun was sent to the island for a reason, was he not? If the enemy is after him, then we should leave him where he is safest.” 

“Yes, that does make sense,” Gai-sensei said, his gaze burning a hole through Lee. “But there is more, isn't there?” 

Lee swallowed. “I—Hokage-sama...she has no faith in us, does she?” 

Gai-sensei sighed heavily. “I do not know what is in the Hokage's heart, Lee. She is not so easy to read, but this decision does not bode well. However, if she has lost her faith in us, then we must restore it.” 

“How? How can we restore it when all we are doing is waiting for the enemy to act? Are we really so weak that we need one man to return to save us? I do not understand it, Gai-sensei! And it frustrates me to know that she thinks so little of us.” 

“She does not think little of you, Lee. She does not think little of any of us for that matter. It is simply that she thinks very highly of Naruto.” Gai-sensei sighed, shaking his head. “Whatever happens now, Lee, do not begrudge the Hokage her choices. She is under a great deal of pressure.” 

Lee shrugged. “The Kazekage is as well, yet he does not seem to think that Naruto-kun should come home.” 

Gai-sensei raised an eyebrow. “The Kazekage may be right, but that is not for us to decide. As shinobi, we must follow the leader of our village. There will be many times you are given missions you do not like, Lee, but when you took up the symbol of our village you took an oath. You must not forget that. Konoha is your home, the Hokage your leader. Whatever choices she makes, you must follow them.” 

Lee's shoulders slumped. Gai-sensei's reprimands always made him feel small, but this felt so much heavier than usual; he felt as though he'd somehow failed as a shinobi by doubting his Hokage. When he'd spoken with the Kazekage, he had felt relieved to speak his mind, but now that relief was a distant memory. 

“I...understand, Gai-sensei. I should not have doubted the Hokage.” 

Gai-sensei shook his head. “It is natural to doubt the orders we are given. Sometimes that is what keeps us alive. We must always be on guard, and vigilance is even more necessary when something in our heart is trying to warn us against something. I have always taught you to listen to your heart, Lee, and I stand by that. But you must also follow the Hokage's orders, and sometimes those two things may contradict one another. The measure of your worth is how you act when that happens. Do you understand?" Lee nodded, feeling only slight relieved. "I do, Gai-sensei." "Good. Now, what I really want to discuss with you is the future. You have fought hard for so many years to become a truly splendid shinobi. I have watched that growth, and I am so proud. There are no words to express just how proud of you I am, how deeply I care. It's that care that has led me astray, for I have failed to teach you one of life's hardest lessons: the lesson of loss.” He sighed heavily, turning away from Lee. “We shinobi are always fighting. We have shaped our lives so that it is all we know, but we are still only human and with that humanity comes death. Eventually, all things die. Spring has an end.

“It is only now, with a great war having fallen on our shoulders that I see I should have taught you sooner, prepared you for what's to come. War always brings with it heavy loss, Lee. The loss of innocence, the loss of a limb, the loss of a village, the loss of life—these are all causalities of war. Some are lucky enough to come out the other side of war without any loss, but others are not so lucky. The Kazekage, for example, has already lost so much; the Hokage, as you see, has lost her faith. Do you know what you might lose, Lee?” 

Lee shook his head. “I—had not considered—no, I mean, I have thought, but—” He stopped abruptly, his chest tight. “I am afraid, Gai-sensei. I am afraid that I will die and that we will fail.” 

“Oh, Lee,” Gai-sensei said, his voice heavy. He pulled Lee forward into a tight hug. “You have already lost something, my beloved pupil, but I know you will one day regain it.” He squeezed Lee, then pulled away. “What I fear most though is that you are not prepared for who you might lose.” 

Lee blinked tears from his eyes, shaking his head. “W-who? Gai-sensei—”

“No, Lee, listen to me. You must be prepared for loss. You must be prepared for death. That is our life, that is all we truly know.” 

Lee's whole body was shaking, and he whipped his head back and forth as though he could will away the truth. “No, that is—that is unthinkable. Neji and Tenten will not—they cannot—”

“I am talking about me, Lee.” 

The jar Lee was trapped in had finally run out of air. He sucked in a ragged breath, staring unseeing at his sensei's shoulder. It had never occurred to Lee that Gai-sensei would die. His sensei was as eternal as the Springtime of Youth, never wavering and never dying. There was simply no way he could accept a reality where Gai-sensei did not live on. 

“Lee,” Gai-sensei said, his voice far off. He forced Lee's face up, forced him to look into his eyes; Lee saw with stark clarity the lines in Gai-sensei's tan skin, the bags under his eyes, the tired way he seemed to smile. Shinobi life meant aging faster than most, but Lee had never considered that such a thing could touch his sensei. 

“Ga-Gai-sensei,” Lee said, tears falling down his face. “I—you cannot die. There is—there is no way. I-I would not let you!” 

“There are some things that cannot be prevented. It is time you learned and accepted this, Lee. If I die in this war, then you must live on. Do not forget what it means to be happy. Forge your own path in the Springtime of Youth. That is what you must do.” 

“N-no! I refuse! I cannot accept that! I-if you die—then I will surely die—”

It had been a long time since Gai-sensei had punched Lee, but his punches still stung. Reality came crashing down on Lee and he sobbed as Gai-sensei pulled him into another hug, his own tears falling now too. “Never,” Gai-sensei said, his voice shaking. “Never say that again, Lee. If I die, I do not want to go to my death knowing that you will follow. You are young, you have so much to live for.” 

Lee closed his eyes, shaking his head. “H-how c-c-can I—y-you cannot die!” 

“I may not die, Lee, but you must be prepared for it. And you must accept it. Do not let this change you, Lee. Do not forget yourself in your grief, that is why I wanted to speak with you. If I die, I want you to continue on and be happy, Lee. That is my wish for you.” 

Lee sobbed brokenly into his sensei's chest, his body still shaking. “I-I do not know if I can do that, Gai-sensei.” 

Gai-sensei laughed sadly. “Once, a long time ago, I watched you train diligently for hours every day. You never gave up. You pushed yourself to the limit, Lee. Against all odds, you were determined. Where has that little boy gone? Are you still determined, Lee?” 

Lee nodded. “H-hai!” 

“Then take heart. If I die, accept my passing and continue on. Create a new happiness for yourself every day and continue to make me proud.” 

Lee swallowed, pulling away and wiping his eyes. “I-I will try, Gai-sensei.” 

Gai-sensei nodded, squeezing Lee's shoulder. “Remember, Lee, you are my most beloved pupil. Death could never change that.” 

Lee looked up into his sensei's tired face. He still felt as though he were trapped in a jar without air, a jar that seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as the moments dragged by. Gai-sensei starred back at Lee, his expression as earnest as ever. Lee could not imagine a life without his sensei, but he nodded anyways, trying to convince himself of the lie he was about to speak.

“I promise, Gai-sensei, I will continue to make you proud.” He struck the Nice Guy pose, and though the gesture was halfhearted Gai-sensei nodded, giving him a thumbs up in return. 

***

Hei had not wanted to be Captain of anything. He'd known that as the grandson of one of Ame's elders eventually he would be expected to take on more responsibility, but the life of a shinobi was enough for an eighteen-year old as far as Hei was concerned. He didn't need to be in charge of leading his people into battles they couldn't win, he didn't need their death's on his hands. 

Try as he might, he could not convince his grandfather of this. 

Being assigned to boarder patrol really wasn't all that bad. It was boring, most days. If the enemy had really taken Suna, then Hei didn't see why they would need to be this far north unless they were planning an attack, and unless they were advancing on Iwagakure Hei thought it would be pointless to move an army this far through the desert. 

Still, he waited with his troops along the border of Wind, Captain of The Most Useless Mission Ever—until the early afternoon on the twenty-eighth day when his comrades from Ame came rushing from the north. 

Hei's troops sprang to action, weapons ready.

“Wait,” Hei ordered, stepping forward. Several of the shinobi were injured, bleeding from various injuries, and the fear in their eyes was so real Hei felt it as though it were his own. His gaze fell on an unfamiliar shinobi with unusual traits for someone from Ame: tan skin, green eyes, and an expression as blank as the desert they'd been watching. 

“We are not the enemy,” the stranger said. 

Hei raised an eyebrow. “I'm supposed to believe that?” he asked. “I've never seen you before, and I'm pretty sure I know every shinobi in Ame. Who are you?” 

“My name is Daisuke. I'm a shinobi of Kusagakure—formerly, that is. My village was seized by the enemy. Myself and my sister were the only survivors.” 

Hei glanced at the shinobi with Daisuke: fifty in number, and each one looked as though they'd seen a ghost. His stomach knotted, but he would not let himself believe the worst.

“Is that so? Then tell me, Daisuke, what exactly brought you to our humble outpost?” 

“Amegakure evacuated just four days ago, but your elders left us behind to protect the village.” Daisuke said the words as though he had memorized them, but disdain slipped into his voice nonetheless. 

Hei narrowed his eyes. “Why would they evacuate and leave you to protect it?” 

“No honor in abandoning your home, or so your elders said.”

Hei shook his head. “That's—that's just—how could my grandfather agree to that?” 

“Your grandfather?” 

Hei waved a hand, ignoring the question. “That's besides the point, we should speak further on this matter. I want to know Ame's current status.” 

“We should hurry,” Daisuke said, glancing back over his shoulder. “We only barely left the village before it was overrun. I fear the enemy may be following us.” 

“Shit,” Hei muttered. Just what he needed, to be responsible for even more lives in the midst of a skirmish. 

“Everyone, form a perimeter and ready your weapons! We're abandoning our initial objective; our new objective is to find safe passage and sanctuary.” 

“The villagers were heading towards Ishigakure with a guard,” Daisuke said. “We should make for Ishi if we can.” 

Hei nodded. “Come with me. I would like to speak with you about the matter in more detail.” Hei led Daisuke to a small tent he and his troops had erected on their first day out. It wasn't much, but it provided cover from the hot sun and gave Hei a place to write his mission reports. His map of the area was pinned to the tiny table in one corner of the room, an ashtray holding one corner of the map down.. 

“I'm curious,” Hei said once inside. “You wear our symbol, not your own.” 

Daisuke's eyes flashed, but the emotion was gone a moment later. “Yes. Your elders invited me to become a part of Amegakure shortly before ordering me to stay behind to defend the village.” 

Hei slammed a fist on the table, making it shake. “Damn them. What was my grandfather—no, he's a senile fool. I shouldn't expect better from him. We'll need to find safe passage through Bird Country if we're to make it to Ishi. I don't care what the elders say, I won't risk my people for a war that isn't even ours. The great nations won't use us as pawns if I can help it.” 

Daisuke studied Hei for a long moment in silence. Hei ignored him as best he could, studying the map before him. They were at the half-way point of the border, which meant that Ishigakure was the closest village to them that they could safely travel to given the rumors he'd heard after the Konoha envoy had left. Heading closer to Fire would be incredibly dangerous, which left Tanigakure out. Ishi was their only option, and if Hei were being honest, he rather wanted to have a few words with his grandfather and the other elders about their recent decisions.

“Your grandfather,” Daisuke said, his voice distracting Hei from his musings, “his name isn't Yashou, is it?” 

Hei frowned, glancing up. “No, why do you ask?” 

“There were only two elders when I was called for an audience. And they mentioned the passing of someone, Kaiou, I believe was the name.” 

Hei stared in stunned silence, his mind reeling. “M-my grandfather's—dead?” 

Daisuke inclined his head. “I'm sorry to deliver such news to you, but that is what I heard.” 

Hei shook his head, glancing back at the map. Suddenly, all the irritation for saddling him with more responsibility felt petty and childish. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It's fine. He was old and senile; it hardly matters right now.” 

Daisuke didn't say anything, for which Hei was grateful. He didn't need pity or empty apologies; he just needed to do something. He traced his finger along the border of Wind, trying to remember all the routes between Ame and Ishi, and if any were worth risking. If the village had evacuated, then they would most likely be taking the trade routes with their wide roads meant for caravans and many people. It was slow and too open, but it was the way they would go with civilians. 

Hei and his group would need to take another route. With so many shinobi, he worried that they would be an easier target no matter how they traveled.

“We'll need to split up,” he said. "Even twenty shinobi by any of these routes is just asking for trouble, but between my men and the ones you arrived with—that's two-hundred shinobi. We can't afford to travel in such a large group. We'd be spotted a mile away. I mean, we'd be strong in theory, but against this army the enemy has...” 

“We'd be killed,” Daisuke stated matter-of-factly. “I've seen them. They really are the dead risen. If we come up against them, we won't survive. I tried to tell your elders that, but they wouldn't listen to me.” 

Hei shook his head. “Stubborn old fools,” he muttered. “I can't believe they'd send so many of our people to their deaths. It's madness. They must know that. How did you convince them to abandon the village, though? I wouldn't expect my comrades to listen to a foreigner.” 

Daisuke shrugged. “It's not as complicated as you might think. I simply told them the truth: that the enemy would kill us and we could do nothing to stop it. I told them to let the enemy have your village. It's better to live and rebuild, than to die and leave nothing left.” 

“I can see why they'd listen then,” Hei said, a slow smile spreading on his face. “You've got a way with words.” 

Daisuke raised an eyebrow. “I only told them the truth. I don't think they truly wanted to stay. They weren't protecting anyone anymore, just a symbol. Villages can be rebuilt, like I said.” 

“True, true.” Hei paused, glancing at the flap in the tent frowning. He'd thought he'd heard something, but it was quiet the next moment. “If we all survive this war, you should consider staying in Ame. You'd do well there. The elders may be fools, but we could use someone like you in the village.” 

“You've got plenty of capable shinobi, why would you want a foreigner to wear your village's symbol?” 

Hei shrugged. “Guess I just like ya,” he said, grinning cheekily. 

Before Daisuke could answer, a kunai shredded the top of the tent embedding itself in the ground at their feet. Hei's heart was in his throat as he stared at the weapon, then up at Daisuke. There was no fear or doubt in Daisuke's expression, only resignation, and then his expression went blank. 

“They're here.” 

***

The mountains of Lightning were more treacherous than Lee had imagined they'd be. They were still over a day away from Kumo thanks to the rugged terrain. The many delays they'd suffered on their journey hadn't helped either. 

Lee still wondered at the wisdom in continuing their journey. If the Kumo shinobi they were meant to meet had been late, then they would have run into them by now; but if they had been killed on their way, why had they not run into trouble yet? Lee did not believe for a moment that he was the only one concerned, but despite his conversation with his sensei, he could not set aside his frustrations with the mission or Hokage. 

As they pressed on, heading further into the mountains, the light dimmed as the sun disappeared behind the range. Lee missed it on the instant, both its warmth and its light. Every shadow made him nervous, every breeze sent chills down his spine. He pushed himself faster. They had taken up a diamond formation with Gai-sensei in the lead and Kakashi-sensei taking up the rear, but Lee quickly bypassed Neji, moving to run beside their sensei. 

Gai-sensei glanced back at Lee, just for a moment—it was so brief that it shouldn't have mattered, it shouldn't have been so vital. The moment his sensei had turned away, a kunai flew, piercing Gai-sensei's leg. He stumbled and fell, letting out a cry.

Lee's world slowed as he came to a screeching halt at his sensei's side, kunai drawn and his eyes scanning the surrounding mountainside. Neji and Kakashi appeared on either side of Lee, searching the mountains. Gai-sensei raised his hand, pointing straight ahead. 

Before them, the mountain split open where a thin path could just be seen. From within, shadows moved, surging forward. 

“Looks like we've got company,” Kakashi said. The words were casual, but his tone was hard. “Gai.” 

“I am fine,” he said, getting to his feet. Panic rose in Lee as he remembered their recent talk, remembered how his sensei wanted him to accept his future death and suddenly the only thing Lee wanted to do was run away. He felt ashamed for thinking it, but the thought of losing Gai-sensei was just too much to bear. He could not let that happen. 

“W-we should turn back,” he said desperately. “We cannot fight them—”

Lee stopped abruptly as a darker shadow passed overhead. Above them, on all sides more shinobi gathered; they were trapped. 

“That is not an option, Lee,” Gai-sensei said heavily. 

“What do you suggest, Gai?” Kakashi asked. 

“There's only one way out of this, my friend,” Gai said. Kakashi stared for a brief moment, then nodded. 

“What way?” Lee asked frantically. “Gai-sensei, we cannot defeat them! They cannot be killed!” 

“Perhaps, Lee, but we must try.” Before Lee could blink, Gai-sensei had opened the first Six Gates, his body haloed in green, his skin reddening as he strained his body to its fullest potential. “We must not give in to our fears, Lee. Be brave.” 

Lee's hands were shaking and he tried to clamp down on his body's reactions, tried to force himself to relax. This was no time to act like a frightened child. He glanced at Neji, taking heart to see his teammate's Byakugan was activated. It might not last long, but at least it meant that Neji was ready to fight as well. Kakashi's forehead protector was pulled up over his eye. Lee turned his gaze back to the approaching army, opening the first Six Gates to match his sensei. 

The enemy rained down upon them the next moment, and then it was all a blur of motion. Lee shoved his fist through the hard clay-like body of one enemy, then another. All around them, the enemy pressed in as they fought. Beside him, Gai-sensei's fists moved, a frenzy of speed and strength so powerful his fists were aflame—the Morning Peacock. Whenever Gai-sensei's fists made contact with an enemy, that shinobi would burst into flames, leaving only a pile of dust. 

Lee and Gai-sensei shared a triumphant look that was quickly wiped from their faces as Neji fell to his knees, clutching his face. Kakashi rushed to his side, intercepting a kunai and tossing aside a shinobi with a Kumo hitai-ate. Lee and Gai-sensei rushed to Neji's aid, fists flying and kicks soaring through the air, bowling over shinobi left and right. 

“I-I can't see,” Neji said, his voice shaking. “I—it's all dark.” 

“Damn,” Kakashi-sensei muttered, deflecting another blade. “This doesn't look good. Gai, I think a retreat is in order.” 

Gai-sensei nodded. “I will do what I can.” 

“What?!” Lee shouted, forgetting himself for a dangerous second. A kunai sliced across his shoulder, tearing into his arm; blood spilled over, but Lee barely felt it. He stared at Gai-sensei, fear taking hold of his heart. “Gai-sensei, what are you going to do?” 

Gai-sensei opened the Seventh Gate, turning to look at Lee. “What I have to, Lee. Please, do not forget what I told you.” 

He whirled around, fists flying as he unleashed a second wave of the Morning Peacock so fast and furious Lee's vision was filled with only flames. Kakashi-sensei pulled Neji to his feet as he watched, impassive as Gai-sensei ran through the enemy, taking down as many as his flaming fists could. Lee stepped forward, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don't. He's going to buy us time.” 

Lee shook his head. “But—but he will die! They will come back and—and— _no!_ That is unacceptable!” Lee charged forward, intent on aiding his sensei, his speed giving him the advantage and carrying him across the distance before Kakashi-sensei could stop him. 

“No, Lee!” Kakashi-sensei cried. Gai-sensei turned, eyes wide as he watched Lee barrel towards him. With his focus on Lee, an enemy behind him stabbed him in the back and Lee cried out as he rushed forward. But even as he neared his sensei, another wave of shinobi, all in black rained down upon them. 

Gai-sensei put a flaming fist through his attacker, took one final look at Lee, and then drove his fist into the mountainside. The earth shook, tripping Lee up and sending him crashing to the ground. He looked up, his lip bleeding as a wall of stone piled up before him separating him from Gai-sensei. Lee let out a desperate cry, rushing towards the wall, but before he'd reached it something sharp hit him right between his shoulder blades and everything went black.


	12. Wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Causalities of war are stacking up. Death is on their heals and destruction waits around every turn. The balance has been upset, the alliance grows more and more tenuous with each passing day. In the midst of war, peace seems an ineffable concept, and survival is but a dream.

It had been a desperate escape from the mountains. He did not understand how Kakashi had managed to get them out while leading a blind Neji and carrying an unconscious Lee when he'd needed to also had to fend off the handful of enemy shinobi that had followed them. It was a testament to Kakashi's skill, but also a damned miracle that he'd gotten them all out alive. However, even Kakashi had his limits and he only lasted—as far as Neji could tell—the distance to the capitol city before he slowed. He led Neji into an empty building that smelled of the summer heat and the floors of which creaked quietly. Once indoors, Kakashi let go of his hand and, without warning, something heavy hit the floor with enough force that he felt a tremor run through the earth. 

“Damn it" Kakashi's voice was strained, his breath coming in sharp bursts.

“Are we safe?” 

“As safe as we can be,” Kakashi replied, still short of breath. “How are your eyes?” 

Neji shook his head, raising a hand to his face. “It's mostly dark. I can see some fuzzy shapes around the edges.” 

“We'll rest here until your sight returns.” 

“That could take days,” Neji pointed out. “Is it really safe to do that? And Lee—if he wakes up—”

“I have enough sedative to last a month,” Kakashi interjected, his voice tense. “I'm not concerned about Lee right now. We'll be safe here, as long as we stay low and keep out of sight. If the enemy had come this far we wouldn't have made it here.” 

“I don't like this.” 

“Neither do I, but I need you to be able to see on our return journey. I don't think I can manage another run in with the enemy if I have to worry about both of you. We'll return to Konoha as soon as you can see well enough to travel.” 

Neji knew that if they traveled through the forests without aid of his Byakugan, they would not make it back to Konoha. Perhaps Kakashi could if he didn't need to worry about Neji and Lee, but with two injured companions he would never make it through the forests alive. Especially if Lee woke in the middle of their journey. 

“I'm gonna take these damned things off Lee,” Kakashi said. “I don't think I can manage another step with these weights.” 

“He's been upgrading since the war.” 

Kakashi chuckled. “I can't say I'm surprised.” 

Neji had never been able to read Kakashi all that well, but he could hear the nostalgia in the words clearly. He wondered, for the first time since they'd abandoned Gai, how Kakashi was holding up. 

“Lee won't be happy when he wakes,” he muttered, shuffling carefully towards the sound of Lee's clinking weights. 

“No,” Kakashi said, voice void of emotion. “No, he won't.” 

“That sedative...” 

“We had to be prepared for anything. Gai knew that if something happened to him Lee would be impossible. He made me promise to keep you both safe if the worst happened.” 

“You knew this mission would fail,” Neji realized. He shook his head. “We never should have done this.” 

Kakashi's silence was heavy, interrupted only by the sound of him removing Lee's weights. “If we hadn't, we'd never have found out that Kumo has been taken by the enemy.” 

“We were still a day away. How can you be sure that Kumo has already been lost?”

“Their hitai-ate. They all had the symbol of Kumo on them.” 

Neji sighed. “That's two villages down.” 

“So it would seem.” 

Neji knelt next to Lee, reaching out a hand, almost afraid that Lee had been abandoned in the mountains too. When his fingers brushed a warm, bandaged hand he relaxed minutely. At least he would not be the only one to return. He could not bear to bring such news to Tenten; the loss of Gai would be hard enough. Nausea surged in him at the reminder, but Neji didn't have the energy to fight that sick feeling creeping up on him. He hung his head, letting the exhaustion and guilt overwhelm him. 

“You shouldn't beat yourself up,” Kakashi said. 

Neji snapped his head up, his expression relaxing into neutrality. “I'm not.” 

“Sure,” Kakashi said. “I'm not either. And Lee won't blame us. And the sky is purple.” 

Neji narrowed his eyes. “I don't want to discuss this.” 

“If we could avoid discussing this then I would be the first to do so, but if we're to make it back to Konoha I need you to set aside your feelings—don't think about Gai, don't think about Lee, don't think about your teammate—"

"Easy for you to say," Neji snapped, anger flaring. "Your teammates are all dead. Do you even care that we left Gai to die? Does it even matter—" Neji stopped himself before he could go any further. Regret blossomed as silence filled the room. He shouldn't have said it, shouldn't have been so harsh, but he was too exhausted to compartmentalize his anger. The mission had been a wash from the start, and now Gai was gone and Lee would never be the same and this would break Tenten's heart and what about him? Gai had watched over him, just as he'd watched over Lee and Tenten; he'd given Neji more space, but he'd always been there, guiding and supporting him. Neji had lost Gai, too. Kakashi was asking too much of him.

The silence stretched for long, tense minutes. Neji's skin prickled, the way it did in the forest when he knew death was waiting around every corner. "I shouldn't—"

"You're right," Kakashi said quietly, igniting a spark of fear that settled in Neji's stomach. It was easy to forget that Kakashi was not just a Jounin sensei; he had been an elite ANBU once upon a time. The reminder was stark and unwelcome in the face of his blindness; he was completely at Kakashi's mercy. It was an irrational thought, but Kakashi spoke the same way all ANBU did—as though murder were just as mundane as sitting down to dinner. It was the voice of someone who was well acquainted with death, beyond what most shinobi knew; it was the voice of an assassin, of someone who had seen it all and would do anything, no matter how gruesome; it was the same voice the Kazekage spoke with, the same voice Uchiha Sasuke had started to use before his defection. It was a voice Neji had heard from many shinobi within and without Konoha; it meant to not fear that person would be foolish.

"It doesn't matter what you think of me," Kakashi said, his voice normal once again. "My top priority is getting us back to Konoha alive. That means that I may need you to help me deal with Lee and if you're distracted by your grief or you don't trust me, then we will fail. Lee's too strong to take unless I want to hurt him—which I don't—and he's too fast for me to catch—especially now that he won't have his weights—and I have no doubt that he'll open Gates. If it comes down to it, I need you to help me take Lee down. Can you do that?” 

And like that his newfound fear of Kakashi melted away as his anger returned. Neji had never wanted to punch anyone quite as much as he wanted to punch Kakashi. He didn't generally find pleasure in punching someone for no good reason, but decking Kakashi sounded like a good idea. It was irrational, it was stupid, and it wasn't fair to Kakashi; he was only doing his best to get them back home safely, exactly as Gai had wanted. If he were being fair, he should be mad at Gai for what he'd asked Kakashi to do, for what he'd kept from Neji. He forced his body to remain relaxed, fighting the urge to ball his hands into fists. 

“This isn't fun for me, either,” Kakashi pointed out, his voice heavy with feeling. Neji didn't trust it though. Kakashi could mask his feelings as expertly as though they were hidden by the mask he always wore. If he were expressing emotion that openly it could easily be a trick. The only people Neji had ever known to be so honest with their feelings were Lee and Gai; he would only ever trust them and Tenten in moments like this. 

But the thought of Lee running headfirst into enemy territory to find Gai was far worse than what he would need to do to keep Lee safe. 

“I'm sorry,” he said heavily. “I will be ready. I won't let Lee go back.” 

“Good. Now, rest. We'll see how your eyes are in a few hours.” 

Neji nodded, setting aside the need to keep his eyes open with some difficulty. How many times now had he done this? How many times had he forced himself to keep his Byakugan activated as they traveled through the forests on their way to a hopeless mission? How many more times would he need to? Would he survive another mission like this? 

He forced those thoughts aside as he settled down for as long a rest as they could afford. 

***

The warriors from the other tribes had arrived, filling the Red Gorge tribe to capacity. Tents had been erected as far as the entrance of the canyon and as high up as the lowest lookout point. Everywhere they looked more warriors arrived with weapons and beasts ready for war. Not a single tribe had ignored the call, even the smaller tribes, like Sand Water and White Rock had sent warriors for the upcoming battle. 

San watched the proceedings as the final tribe's warriors arrived, all the way from the southwest coast, with Motoko a comforting presence at their side. San grinned, glancing back at their lover. Motoko's expression was as hard as ever, but the light in her eyes was fierce; San trusted that Motoko would not forget her promise to Yua. 

“We will leave soon,” San murmured, close to Motoko's ear. 

“Yes,” she breathed. “You to Suna and I to Konoha.” Motoko closed her eyes, leaning against San. “We have never been apart for so long.” 

San barked out a laugh. “You are sentimental, my love.” 

“I am,” Motoko agreed, a small smile breaking her stoic mask. “You have always been my weakness.” 

“Then it is good we are not going into battle together,” San teased.

“Yes,” Motoko said, her smile fading. “And I have something that I must do in Konoha, something other than just aiding our shinobi allies.” 

San raised an eyebrow. “You will not try to harm the Kazekage, I hope.” 

Motoko's eyes widened, and then, unexpectedly, she laughed. “I would hardly be so foolish. No, I know what happens to those who try to do him harm. He was the only monster children knew to fear in my youth. I have not forgotten—and that is what I must do.” 

“Forget?” 

Motoko didn't answer, her eyes following the leader of the Gold Falcon tribe as she greeted the newest arrivals.

“Whatever it is you must do,” San said softly, “I hope it brings you peace.” 

Motoko glanced up at San, her eyes bright in the desert sun and her copper skin glowing. “I have my peace here,” she said, resting a hand against San's chest above their heart. 

San shook their head, covering Motoko's hand with their own. “As I said, sentimental.” 

Motoko laughed lightly, nodding. “Come, we should greet the new arrivals.” 

They made their way back down into the canyon together, arms brushing as they walked. The Red Gorge tribespeople were milling about outside their homes, eager to catch a glimpse of the warriors that had come. A few women were giggling and pointing as a group passed, catching the eye of the warriors in the procession and blushing when they did. It was a softer side of war, a side San had never known and never would. 

“Peace my brethren from afar,” San called as they approached the leader of the Red Water tribe. “I welcome you to my home with open arms. How was your journey?” 

“And peace to you, San of the Red Rock,” Yuka returned, a hand over her heart as she bowed. “Our journey was long, but easy. We are honored by your call to arms.” 

“As I am honored that you have answered it,” San said, returning the gesture, though they did not bow as low. “Now that you have arrived,” San continued, dropping formalities, “we can prepare to move out. Half of us will leave for Sunagakure tonight, the other half for Konohagakure. Our shinobi brethren shall not fight this war alone!” 

A cry went up, echoing through the canyon. It crashed around them like a wave breaking on the shore, then rose again even louder. The voices of the warriors of twenty-nine different tribes, mingling together as one, boomed through the canyon, vibrating through San's chest. Pride swelled within them, the sense of approaching victory rising like the sun with each echoing cry. There would be losses, certainly, but in the face of such an army, even the dead would know fear. 

San raised a hand into the air, making a fist and all the gathered warriors followed suit. “Tonight, we go to war!” 

*** 

“There they are!” an enemy shinobi called, pointing in the wrong direction, following the decoys they'd sent out. 

Neji and Kakashi hid low in the thick bushes, watching as the band of shinobi they'd stumbled upon raced after the fake versions of them. They had sent out several different decoys, each heading in a different direction, neither one heading towards Konoha. If they could keep the enemy occupied long enough, they might be able to slip away unnoticed. If Neji's eyesight had improved more over the last few days then he could have at least found the path they'd taken before, but as it stood everything was still dim and fuzzy around the edges. Neji did not know if his sight would ever be the same. 

The sounds of the enemies retreating footsteps faded, until all was silent around them except for the swaying of the leaves, but Neji did not move. Not a moment later, off in the distance, he heard the sounds of another group approaching, having been attracted by the shouting. He waited, holding his breath and masking his chakra, relieved that they had decided to give Lee another dose of the sedative before entering the forests. If Lee woke now, there was no way they would make it back to Konoha. They had already tempted fate too many times this mission; another wrong move would not be forgiven.

As all fell silent around them once more, a figure appeared, hazy in the darkness of Neji's vision. 

Kakashi shifted his arm beside him, but otherwise remained still. Across from their hiding place, Neji heard Kakashi's voice as another decoy appeared.

“Yo,” the copy said. 

“Kakashi-sensei,” Shino's familiar voice said, a hint of surprise coloring it. “What are you doing here?” 

Neji could hear the mistrust in Shino's voice. He almost sighed in relief. 

“That's classified,” the fake Kakashi said. 

“This isn't the safest part of the forest,” Shino pointed out. “Either your mission is as suicidal as mine or you're lost.” 

“Take your pick.” 

“I'd say you're lost.” 

Kakashi's clone chuckled. “Could you tell me the safest way back to Konoha?” 

There was a heavy silence. “Only if you come out of hiding. I can't trust that you're still alive from a decoy.” 

Beside Neji, Kakashi sighed. “There's nothing else for it. Stay here.” 

Neji's muscles tensed and he glanced at Kakashi's blurry face. “Don't. We don't know if he's really alive.” 

“We also don't have any other options. If he can tell us a safe path, then it's our best bet. If something happens to me, take Lee and go.” 

Kakashi disappeared in a puff of smoke, re-materializing behind Shino. “Yo.”

Shino's shoulders visibly relaxed. “So you're alive,” he murmured. “You're lucky. These forests are overrun.” 

“So I hear. What's the safest way back to Konoha?” 

“About an hour southeast of here, there's a path you can take. My bugs are all over it. I've managed to take back a few sections of the forest. I forged a safe path through to get me back to Konoha for when I'm asked to return.” 

Kakashi was silent for a long moment. “How?” 

“The enemies' chakra. I've been able to use my bugs to incapacitate them.” 

“And they don't come back?” 

“No chakra, no life,” Shino said. “But I've been lucky. I don't think Sai will fair as well as me.” 

“Sai's out here?” Kakashi asked, his voice rising slightly. “What the hell kind of mission is this?” 

Shino turned away, heading back into the forest. “A necessary evil. The council sent us to scout the forest. Sai went west, I came east. We were going to combine the information we'd gathered to create a map for the allied forces to use so that things like this don't happen.” 

“Have you heard from Sai?” 

“This is a no contact mission. We weren't meant to send messages to anyone.” 

Kakashi was silent for a long time. “All right,” he finally said, resignation in his voice. 

“Good luck,” Shino offered, and he disappeared into the forest. 

Kakashi waited, letting a few minutes pass by before he returned to Neji's side. They lifted Lee between them, his head lolling back and forth, and then took to the trees in silence. The quiet surrounding Kakashi was heavy with worry. Neji did not know what Sai's fate was, but with the forests so dangerous of late he doubted that Kakashi's worries were misplaced. 

***

Being bedridden was high up on the list of Gaara's least favorite things. It left him agitated and restless and thinned his patience to the point that he often gave out orders more harshly than necessary. According to Kankurou, he was acting the same as ever just with the added bonus of his sand constantly shifting in his gourd and a permanent crease between his brow.

When Gaara looked in the mirror, the crease wasn't the only thing about his appearance he noticed: there were worry lines around his mouth, and the dark circles around his eyes had worsened, masking the crow's feet that had formed over the last few months of constant narrow-eyed concern. The perpetual drumming of war and the constant pain were the least of his concerns now, though; the long wait for Naruto's return sat heavily on his mind, like a persistent migraine. He had ordered Kichirou to keep watch for the moment when Lee and his team arrived with Naruto, but as day nineteen turned to day twenty, Gaara began to doubt they would ever come home. 

He stared out the window of his room, watching as the sun crept slowly higher as the early hours of dawn turned to morning and Konoha came alive. Shops began to open, residents filled the streets, and shinobi went about their work preparing for the war. He watched as his own people joined the bustling throngs of Konoha's people, frowning as they were turned away from shop after shop. He let out a quick huff of irritation, but he had no power to control the citizens of another village. If he and the Hokage were not still so at odds, he might speak with her about the tension between their villagers; but the last time he had seen her at a council meeting she had only spoken to him when absolutely necessary, which meant solely speaking to undermine him and veto every one of his suggestions, and always with an irritated scowl on her face. 

He doubted that they would be able to set aside their differences anytime soon. Perhaps if Naruto arrived in one piece, but certainly no sooner. 

A door opened somewhere in the suite he shared with his siblings and a moment later he heard Temari call, “I'm leaving now!” The sound of the door closing followed and then it was quiet. 

Temari's new distraction was a blessing, though Gaara could do without Kankurou's constant jokes and Temari's predictable retaliation. He didn't understand why Kankurou insisted on goading their sister when he knew she had no patience for it. He hardly understood what was so amusing to his brother or so embarrassing to his sister, but since they kept it to a minimum he supposed he would suffer through until Kankurou grew bored. 

As long as those jokes didn't lead Temari to returning to her overprotective coddling, then Gaara wouldn't complain. 

He picked up a scroll from his desk—one that he had been forced to set aside the night before when the pain in his side had become too much to focus. They had been prepared to lose more villages to the enemy and, while Kusa was hardly a strong village, the loss could only mean the enemy was gaining more ground and growing stronger. It worried Gaara and Tsunade in equal measures, and shoring up Konoha's defenses had been the one and only thing they'd agreed upon at the last meeting. Hours of strengthening and securing the village would only save lives; Tsunade wasn't so proud or stubborn that she would risk her people's security to spite him.

However, Gaara was of the opinion that they should begin the evacuation immediately. He did not think it was spite that had her vetoing the suggestion, but there was no doubt in his mind that the choice to remain within the village would lead to disaster.

A flicker of chakra caught Gaara's attention and he looked up as Kichirou arrived, his masked face a welcome sight. Hope flared in Gaara against his better judgment and he set the scroll aside. 

“Report.” 

“The team sent by the Hokage has returned without Uzumaki Naruto,” Kichirou said swiftly. “Further, after waiting to be sure, it seems that Maito Gai has not returned and Rock Lee appears to be severely injured.” 

Gaara was on his feet faster than he'd meant to be, pain lancing up his side. His gourd shook briefly at the shock of it, then subsided into its now constant state of restless hissing. “Where were they headed? To the hospital?” 

“It appeared that way.” 

Gaara nodded, looking away from Kichirou. “Was there anything else?” 

“No, Kazekage-sama.” 

“Dismissed.” 

He didn't look back as he left the room. Kankurou was up, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired, chugging a glass of orange juice. He glanced up and nearly spat out his juice when he spotted Gaara. “Woah,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “Calm down, little brother. If you'd wanted the last of the orange juice you just had to say—”

“I'm leaving,” Gaara snapped. “I'll be at the hospital if you need me.” 

Kankurou blinked, his posture relaxing. “The hospital? Is everything okay?” 

“Lee's team returned,” Gaara said stiffly, moving to the door and slipping into his shoes. “He appears to be injured.” 

“Aw, come on, the bowl cut's gonna be fine. He's tough as rocks. I'm sure he'll bounce back.” 

Gaara cast a long suffering look at Kankurou. “His sensei didn't return.” 

“Well shit,” he said. “All right, hang on. I'm coming too.” 

Gaara must have looked shocked because Kankurou barked out a humorless laugh. “Hey, man, the guy's weird but he's a good guy. He saved your ass, after all.” 

“So he did,” Gaara murmured, leaning against the wall as he waited for Kankurou. Lee was an unexpected force in his life, but one he was grateful for not only because, despite the odds, he had saved Gaara's life. Lee had unwavering faith in him, even when presented with the facts of Gaara's failures as Kazekage. He welcomed it, even when he felt it was undeserved. It was simply who Lee was, and he valued that about him. He appreciated Lee's honesty and resolve, his kindness and his passion; and if anyone had told Gaara four months ago that he would consider Lee a close friend he would not have believed them. Rock Lee had only ever been a distant thought in his mind, a person he could respect and even admire, but not someone he would have called friend. While Lee had made a rather large impression on Gaara in the past, friendship had simply never occurred to him.

Kankurou reappeared a moment later, pulling the hood of his suit up over his messy hair. He'd skipped the war paint, a fact that told Gaara Kankurou was more worried than he'd let on. “All right, let's go.” 

***

He'd known it was a ridiculous hope, but somewhere in Kankurou's mind he'd stubbornly thought he'd be lucky enough to never step foot in Konoha's hospital again. It hadn't been a full month yet, but here he was, trailing just behind Gaara into the hosptail. The smell of antiseptic and herbs that assaulted his nose the moment he'd entered gave him an immediate headache. 

“You,” Gaara barked at a passing medic. “Has Rock Lee been brought in yet?” 

The young man's eyes were wide with fear and he took several steps back, pointing a shaking hand down the corridor. “T-they went that way, sir.” 

Gaara swept past, leaving Kankurou to mind his manners for him. “Thanks,” he said, nodding at the medic as he followed after his brother. For someone who'd sustained permanent and severe damage, Gaara could move fast. _Stubborn jackass,_ Kankurou thought fondly. 

They rounded the corner, Gaara coming to an abrupt halt. Only by the grace of long years practice, was Kankurou able to avoided bumping into Gaara's gourd. 

In the center of the corridor, Tsunade was speaking with Kakashi, but her head snapped up and her gaze locked on Gaara the moment he'd arrived. She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Your check up's not until next week,” she snapped. 

“What happened?” The tension in Gaara's voice and the sand hissing in his gourd should have sent her running. Kankurou supposed she had to be made of harder stuff to be Hokage, but he couldn't help wonder at her survival instincts nonetheless.

“That's not your concern, Kazekage. I will deal with the missions my shinobi attend.” 

“Your shinobi were on a mission that affects the war. It's as much my concern as it is yours, Hokage.” 

Tsunade bared her teeth. “Let me remind you, Kazekage, that you are a guest in my village. As this was a mission for Konoha and Kumo alone, you are on a strictly need to know basis.” 

“The team you sent returned twenty days later with one man missing and the objective no where to be found. I'd consider that 'need to know', Hokage.” 

Kankurou's headache was getting worse from watching the two of them go at it. He glanced at Kakashi, noting the bags under his visible eye. He looked exhausted, not at all like the cavalier shinobi Kankurou had worked with while scouting Suna. 

“Are you suggesting, Kazekage, that I'm not competent enough to handle a mission report?”

“I'm suggesting that you're pigheaded enough to leave me in the dark. This mission doesn't just affect Konoha, but if you insist on acting like a child—”

“I will not be spoken to this way!” Tsunade yelled, fists clenched at her sides. “If you don't like the decisions I make then go back to Suna.” 

Gaara's gourd shook violently on his back at her words. Kankurou would have gladly punched her for that comment, but given the diplomatic incident that would cause he refrained. Then again, it would probably be better than the diplomatic chaos Gaara flattening her with his sand would cause. Of course, Kankurou would be dead before he could so much as lay a finger on her, and then Gaara would definitely lose it and then the alliance would crumble and Madara would definitely win. 

Kankurou really couldn't see an upside to the situation. 

Tension stretched between them as Gaara stared down Tsunade, the only sound the furious hissing of his sand. Then, when Kankurou was sure Gaara was going to ignore Tsunade and walk straight into the room, a familiar figure rushed past, crying loudly. 

“Neji! Lee!” 

Neji stepped from the room at that moment, but before he could acknowledge the new arrival she'd flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face against his chest, sobbing. 

“Tenten,” he murmured, still for the briefest of moments before wrapping his arms around her. It was a rare sight to see shinobi so tender with anyone and Kankurou felt like an intruder. He quickly averted his gaze. 

“I-I heard—Ga-Gai-sensei! It—it's not true, is it? P-please, Neji—”

“I'm sorry,” he murmured into her hair. “We—we left him behind.” 

Tenten shook her head, another sob escaping. “Oh god, that's—how could—what did Lee do? Is Lee all right?” 

“He's unconscious,” Neji said, nodding to the room. He took in a deep breath before adding, “We had to sedate him.” 

Tenten's eyes went wide. “You—you did what?!” 

“It was Gai's decision,” Kakashi interjected. “He knew this might happen, that we might be overwhelmed. He wanted to make sure that Lee and Neji would make it back to Konoha safely. He'd entrusted me with the sedative.” 

Tenten stared unseeing at Kakashi for a long moment, then her eyes narrowed. “You left him—you left him to die and then you—you bastard!” 

Kankurou had seen many strange things in his years as a shinobi, but watching a Chuunin slap Hatake Kakashi definitely took every single cake the bakery had to offer and then some. He couldn't decide who was more surprised by this: Kakashi's face might have been covered by a mask, but his visible had gone wide; Neji, was staring at the space between Tenten and Kakashi with his mouth hanging open; and Tsunade looked as though her eyes might pop out of her head. Kankurou decided, as Neji quickly dragged Tenten into his room, that it had to have been Kakashi because a shinobi of his caliber would have certainly blocked such a mundane attack had he considered it a possibility.

“Tenten, calm down," Neji's voice carried into the hall. "He had no choice. None of us did.” 

“And what about Lee? Oh-oh god, Lee!”

Kankurou could still hear her crying, but he didn't dare take another step closer to hear her muffled words as she, no doubt, cried over an unconscious Rock Lee. Neji reappeared a moment later, hand on the door frame and his gaze on Kakashi's shoulder. “She doesn't mean it.” 

Kakashi shook his head. “It doesn't matter, Neji. Just go take care of her.” 

Neji nodded, reaching out a hand to grip the wall. He stretched his other hand out, moving it before him as though he were trying to push something out of his way. Kankurou realized belatedly, as Neji disappeared back into the room, that his eyesight had given out. 

“Damn,” he muttered, drawing everyone's gaze to him save for Gaara's. “You sure are running quite the show, Hokage-sama. Gaara, we should go.” 

Gaara didn't budge. He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes firmly on the open space where Neji had just been. Kankurou sighed. “Come on, little brother. You can check on Lee later when it's not so damn crowded.” 

“Listen to your brother, Kazekage,” Tsunade intoned, her voice shaking. Kankurou shot her an irritated glare. 

Gaara narrowed his eyes, but relaxed his posture. “I'll be back later. And I want the full report.” 

“Duly noted.” Tsunade spun around, heading down the corridor. “Kakashi, come with me.” 

Kakashi's shoulders seemed to sag. “Yes, Hokage-sama. Kazekage-sama, Kankurou.” He inclined his head towards them as he followed after the Hokage, leaving Kankurou and Gaara alone in the corridor. The silence that followed was filled with the eerie sound of Gaara's hissing sand and Tenten's desperate sobs . The sound sent chills up Kankurou's spine, memories from a distant but not forgotten past surfacing.

“Come on, Gaara,” he said, carefully nudging Gaara's shoulder. 

Gaara finally turned away from the open door of Lee's hospital room, walking slowly and favoring his side. Kankurou shook his head, hurrying after him. Every medic in the vicinity was watching them as they left, and Kankurou had no doubt that by tonight the whole village would be buzzing about the latest argument between the Hokage and Kazekage. 

It was a miracle they'd lasted this long in the same village. Kankurou hoped, perhaps foolishly, that the end of the war would come soon so they could finally go home. 

***

They were close to home—so close that Sakura could hardly breathe. She felt an ache in her chest as she pushed herself faster, her legs protesting not for the first time since they'd left. She'd spent too long cooped up and now that she was back in the world, running home for all she was worth, her legs strained as though she were still a young girl starting out as a ninja. 

She ignored the ache and kept moving. 

“Sakura,” Shizune said next to her, “slow down. We need to move more carefully through the forest.” 

“Sorry,” she said. “I just—we're so close.” 

Sakura forced herself to slow, allowing others to overtake her. She let out a slow breath to steady herself.

Ahead, Ichiko held up a hand, signaling the rest of the team to stop. Sakura and Shizune landed on a branch just above her, sharing a look with one another before following Ichiko's gaze. About fifty yards off, camped out beneath the trees was a large group of enemy shinobi. There were no tents, there was only a fire burning low in the darkness, and the shinobo gathered around seemed ghostly pale. The hitai-ate that glinted in the firelight all bore different symbols: some Konoha, some Suna, and some bore the symbol of the smaller nation of Kusa. Sakura swallowed, glancing to Shizune.

“What should we do?” 

“We could take them,” Ichiko suggested. 

“No,” Shizune snapped, her voice tense and quiet. She glanced at their team, worrying her lip. “We need to get this serum to Konoha. We can't afford the delay or the risk fighting them would present.” 

“Then what should we do?” Midori asked softly. She'd taken up a spot next to Sakura, looking as nervous as she had the day they'd first left Konoha. 

“We should go around,” Shizune said. “Look for a safe route.” 

Ichiko huffed. “Does one even exist out here? We're in enemy territory now. I'd say our best option is to fight. And we could test out the serum.” 

“No,” Sakura whispered. “That's not an option.” 

“But we have the advantage,” Ichiko challenged. “We could kill them.” 

“And they could still kill us, and then where would we be? It's eleven against who-knows-how many. Even with the serum we don't stand a chance. We'd be down in that camp, joining the enemy's forces, being manipulated into killing our own. I won't risk the serum or our lives for something as risky as that.” Sakura gripped the straps of her pack tighter, as though that might somehow keep the serum from coming to harm. 

“Going around is our best option. All agreed?” Shizune asked the gathered shinobi. Nine shinobi nodded.

Ichiko huffed, but finally agreed. “Fine,” she snapped. “So, which way? South?” 

“No,” Sakura said quickly. “We went that way before, remember? We know the south is full of enemy encampments. Even the back roads are too overrun.” 

“We should go north, towards Noodle Country. We can go around the enemy and then head south again for Konoha.” No one argued and Shizune nodded. “We won't be able to stop for rest again, so if you need to eat something do it now. We can't afford anyone burning out now.” 

The quiet shuffling of packs being opened filled the silence in the trees. Sakura worried her lip, hoping the sound wouldn't carry, and if it did that the enemy would think it was only the leaves blowing in the summer wind. She glanced down at the encampment warily, expecting to see a pair of eyes staring back at her. 

She hadn't expected to see Sai. 

Her vision tunneled, her world shrinking to the small point that was Sai's familiar face, and the tightness in her chest doubled and then tripled. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything but Sai, and all she could hear was the heavy, steady drumming of her heart, carefully measured in the rhythm of rest gradually increasing as she lost control. 

Far off, she heard Shizune say her name. She felt a strong hand on her shoulder, shaking her, but she had left her body. Her hands might have shook, but she was not aware of them; she was not aware of anything except Sai. Nothing else mattered. Sai's pale face and blank smile filled her vision, the glow of the fire hardly changing him at all. He looked just the same, looked just as alive as the last time she'd seen him when she'd crept away from his apartment in the middle of the night with a whispered threat that if he told _anyone_ —

She gasped, clutching her chest, and swaying on the spot.

“Sakura,” Shizune said, gripping Sakura's shoulder tighter. “Are you all right?”

Sakura shook her head. “N-no,” she whispered, tears falling down her face. “No, I'm not.”

“What is it? What's wrong?”

“I—” Sakura opened and closed her mouth, trying to the form words. The lump that had formed in her throat strangled her, made her choke on them. All she could managed was a broken, “Sai.”

Shizune blinked in the darkness, staring at Sakura in confusion before following Sakura's blank gaze. When her eyes found Sai, she let out a heavy sigh. “Come on, Sakura,” she said, wrapping an arm around her. “Let's get out of here.”

Sakura shook her head, her entire body trembling. “I—he—I can't just—"

“He's dead, Sakura. There's nothing you can do.”

Sakura wanted to argue, she wanted to scream and cry at the injustice of it. Why him? Why her teammate? Why was it always people she cared about? First Sasuke, then Naruto, and now Sai. Was it her? Was she bad luck? Her knees shook, and she thought for a moment she might collapse if not for Shizune holding her up. She wanted to collapse, to crumble; she wanted to give up and cry so much she would flood the forest. She wanted to know what had happened to Sai.

“He's my teammate,” she whispered, a desperate plea in her voice. “How can I just...” She reached out a shaking hand towards the encampment, as though she might be able to call Sai to her and bring him home. Shizune grabbed her hand, pulling it back.

“Stop,” she whispered gently. “I know it's hard, I know. But you have to accept it and let it go. We need to leave before they notice us. We've stayed too long as it is.”

Sakura didn't want to believe that Sai was a danger to them, she didn't want to believe that someone she'd considered a friend could ever do anything to hurt her, she didn't want to believe that someone she'd shared something so intimate with could ever kill her. But Shizune was right; she had to think about the mission, she couldn't let her heart rule her.

She sucked in a deep breath, her chest still so tight it felt like her sternum might crack from the pressure, and finally managed to get her heart rate back under control. She closed her eyes, the image of Sai's face burned into her retinas, and forced down the feelings that invoked. She would deal with this later, when they had returned to Konoha; she could mourn at war's end, assuming she survived.

Sakura opened her eyes, keeping her gaze focused on Shizune. “I'm better.”

Shizune nodded. “Let's move out.”

***

“What is your nindo?”

Baki had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He was tired, hungry, and more than a little impatient to be rid of the Daimyo and his daughter; but paranoia in the guards stationed at the shrine was a good sign. He sighed. “My nindo is hope.”

“And mine is peace. You may enter.”

Baki's shoulders relaxed a fraction. He and his people could finally rest; much as he hated being positioned so far from the Kazekage, Baki was looking forward to a long sleep.

“We have rooms prepared for you, Kaze Daimyo,” a shrine maiden said, her gaze hard and unrelenting. She stared distastefully at the Kaze Daimyo's ruddy face as he peered through the window of his norimono.

“Thank you, my dear,” he simpered. “I am quite tired from the journey.”

The woman raised one impeccably manicured eyebrow. She glanced at Baki, her dislike for the Daimyo clear in her deep brown eyes, and then turned sharply on her heel. “This way please. Oh, but you must leave those here.” She glanced over her shoulder, brow still arched, and motioned to the two norimono. “You will have to walk from here on out. I do hope that isn't an inconvenience.” 

The Daimyo puffed up his cheeks, but didn't argue. He slammed the window closed, his box shaking as he fumbled his way out the other side. His daughter, for all that she seemed to be made up of nothing but long limbs, stepped out of the box gracefully. She inclined her head to the shrine maiden, who gave her an appraising look and then smiled.

“Your rooms are this way, please follow me.” The Daimyo, his daughter, and their guard followed after her, his daughter leading the group and speaking quietly with the shrine maiden. 

Baki turned to the shinobi who'd answered the door. He was young and unfamiliar, his hitai-ate bore the symbol of Kiri, and he carried a strangely shaped sword wrapped in bandages on his back.

“We're this way,” he said, not meeting Baki's gaze. “We had to send people out last night, so we're short on man power right now—only the heads of each team are here until the rest get back.”

“What happened?”

“Kumogakure was attacked,” the young man said, turning to glance nervously at Baki. “The civilians arrived yesterday with a small battalion of shinobi, but hardly their entire force. The scout for Kumo stayed behind to give us a report.” The young man's pace slowed to a stop before a large door. On the other side, Baki could hear a quiet conversation.

The young man knocked, then pushed the door open. “Sorry to interrupt, but we're all here now.”

“Oh, good,” Anko's familiar voice said. “How was the Kaze Daimyo?” 

Baki snorted, falling into a seat heavily. “I should be given a raise for not killing him. His daughter was the only one keeping him in line, and barely that.”

Anko laughed. “No surprise there. At least you only had the one to deal with.”

“One hell of a pain in the ass, though.” He shook his head. “It doesn't matter now. I hear there's news.” He glanced down the table to the two Kumo shinobi; one looked more worn than the other, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and her arms wrapped around her midsection. Baki guessed she had been the scout. 

“Unfortunately,” another woman said, her voice light. “Looks like Kumo is no more, isn't that right?”

Baki's eyes narrowed as he appraised the Iwa shinobi who'd spoken. She looked like a kunoichi he'd known once, a strong warrior who'd been betrayed by Iwa. Pakura of the Scorch Release had died at the hands of her so-called allies years ago, but it would be a cold day in hell before any shinobi ever forgot a betrayal. Baki and every Suna shinobi knew well how easily Iwa could double cross their allies. He would remember to watch her.

The woman at the end of the table nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice heavy. “I watched from a safe distance. Suspicions had been brought to our attention that the Captain of the Guard was acting unlike himself. We began to evacuate our people in the middle of the night. It took two nights—we were still evacuating when the fighting broke out along the wall.

“There were few civilian causalities, but we still lost lives when the fighting spread. Our shinobi fought to push the enemy back, and after an hour it seemed as though we had won.” She shuddered, dropping her gaze. Her words were flat and emotionless, as though she had recited the tale numerous times. Baki knew what it was to watch your village destroyed and your people killed; he could understand the pain she'd endured.

“Take your time,” he said, his voice gruff.

She took in a deep breath. “I watched as my comrades were overwhelmed again. The army of the dead that had first invaded at dawn had been pushed back—we'd discovered that fire could kill them, and many of us in Kumo are skilled in the Fire Release technique. I'd thought we'd won, but then they returned with more in their company, an army all in black. The Raikage disappeared into the mountains, leading a great number of the enemy away, but—but my comrades could not fend them off. Many died and Kumo burned. I left once I was sure that we had lost.”

“I'm not surprised. We were overwhelmed by the ones in all black,” he explained. “They were the first to attack us, led by one of the dead shinobi in Madara's army—Deidara, I believe,” he said, glancing to the Iwa kunoichi again.

Her eyebrows rose with interest and she grinned. “Oh, one of our missing nin.” She clicked her tongue, rocking her chair back. “How did the Kazekage fair against him? Wasn't he the one who'd killed him before? Quite an impressive feat, fighting the Kazekage twice and being victorious.”

Baki kept his expression neutral and his muscles relaxed, but the slight was hard to allow. He narrowed his eyes, recognition finally dawning. “Remember your company, Takako,” he warned.

Takako's chair fell forward with a clack. “I'll be sure to do that,” she said cheekily. “Is that all? It's just, I've already heard the story. No offense, but it'd be ever so _boring_ to listen to it again, and really I just don't see what there is to do about it. Kumo's gone, but look on the bright side, you're still alive.” She rose, stretching. “I'm off to bed.”

Anko glared after her. “You could act like you care even a little bit,” she snapped.

“For you, Anko? Anything,” Takako purred as she left, letting the door close heavily behind her.

“Damn her,” Anko murmured. “She's been nothing but insufferable this entire trip.”

“She's dangerous,” Baki warned, his gaze on the door. “She betrayed one of my comrades, killed her in cold blood when she was on a mission of peace. It's best that we keep her at arms length. There's no telling what she's planning or what she intends to tell the Tsuchikage once our mission is over."

“Do you think she'd do anything to harm the alliance?”

“I do,” Baki said without hesitation. “Iwa has always been underhanded and self-serving. I wouldn't trust any of them if I were you.”

“And your village hasn't?”

“Not in many years. The Fifth Kazekage is a good man, a better leader than we've ever seen. Suna will not betray the alliance, not for anything.”

“Konoha won't either,” Anko agreed.

“And neither will Kumo.”

“Or Kiri!” the young man who'd shown him in said earnestly.

“Shinobi always distrust one another,” Baki said softly. “Perhaps that is why so much of our history is wrought with such violence. Whether or not Iwagakure plans on betraying us though, I do think Takako should be watched. Anko, you especially should be wary of her.”

Anko frowned, shaking her head. “Why?”

“Do you know what she's called in my village?”

Anko glanced beyond Baki to the door, then back to him. “Her reputation precedes her, does it?”

"The Hunting Lady is well known in Suna, yes.”

Anko blanched. “The Hu—I've heard of her too. I had no idea—why would the Tsuchikage send her of all people!? That's—that's thoughtless! She could jeopardize everything.”

Baki nodded. “Quite. And she seems to have set her sights on you, Anko. Be careful.”

Anko nodded. “I've been careful. Something about her set me off from the start, I just never thought—” She stopped, setting her jaw. “Damn the Tsuchikage for sending someone like that here. She should be locked up, not roaming free and out on diplomatic escort missions!”

“That may very well be why he sent her,” Baki mused. He glanced at the others. “We'll keep an eye on her. The rest of your teams will return soon, won't they?”

“Yes, along with Takako's team.”

“One team against four does not concern me.”

“It should,” the young man challenged, his voice wavering as Baki turned his gaze on him. “We're supposed to be five great nations banded together. Division will only weaken us.”

Baki nodded. “It will.”

If the alliance crumbled now, in the midst of war, Baki did not see how they could win. Madara had greatly weakened them by destroying Suna and sending them fleeing. Living in Konoha, even with the long standing alliance between the villages was like walking on eggshells. There was still bad blood between the shinobi of their villages, would probably be for as long as the shinobi still lived who remembered the misdeeds of their allies. It was why Baki had taken on this misison—it had been to avoid conflict, to ensure the alliance was not tested. But here and now, he was faced again with the tenuous nature of peace. Takako was one person, but that was all it took to destroy the trust built between new friends.

One wrong move and they would all fall to ruin.

***

The slow rise from unconsciousness to consciousness always took Lee longer than most shinobi. It was worse when he was heavily sedated, sensitive as he was to anything that altered one's mental state, but his teammates knew better than anyone that an unconscious Lee was still just as dangerous. Sedated, however, Lee's return to the waking world was as gradual as a snail getting from one end of a wall to another. His mind was muddled and foggy, though he was still able to take stock of his condition: he had been drugged rather than hit based on the way his limbs felt heavy and weak and just the faintest bit numb in places he had to assume had been injured. His nose was full of the antiseptic sent of the Konoha hospital, but he couldn't remember injuring himself so severely that he'd need surgery again so soon after his last. Sound met his hears, the gentle hum of Konoha, then the shifting of someone nearby followed by the gentle hiss of whispered words.

“I think I should get the Hokage,” Tenten said softly.

“Wait." Neji didn't both to whisper. Lee shifted his legs and the lingering numbness wasn't enough to mask the pain in his ankle. Lee's relationship with pain was such that he did not always see it as a negative, and sometimes even sought it out—the burn of pushing himself past his endurance, the strain of his muscles as he added heavier weights to his regimen, the almost pleasurable ache deep in him as he worked on his technique. Pain was electric, it was the jolt that reminded Lee he was alive, that told him just how much farther he could go, that brought him awareness of himself like nothing else could. The pain he felt now was not the sweet burn of pushing himself or the wonderful ache of learning a new form; it was not agony unimaginable—Lee did not think anything would ever hurt as horribly and completely as the crush of sand around his arm and leg—but it was enough. It brought him to attention, had his mind snapping to like a soldier being reprimanded. He forced his eyes open, the lids heavy and caked with sleep. He groaned at the blinding light of the hospital and shut his tight against it.

“Lee.” 

“Wh—what happened?” he croaked. He coughed, his throat as dry as the desert's of Wind Country. A glass of water was in front of his face before he could ask.

“Here,” Tenten said gently.

He tried to smile at her but his muscles didn't respond the way he wanted them to. He blinked owlishly up at his teammate, then glanced at Neji. Neji was sitting up in a bed next to Lee's, bandages around his eyes, but otherwise he appeared unharmed. Lee frowned. “W-what happened?” he repeated, as his mind began to slowly catch up, trying to process the situation. 

“You don't remember?” Tenten asked, setting the ignored glass of water down. Her voice was pitched a little too high. Something was bothering her, but Lee could not fathom what. 

He tried to shake his head, but the motion was more of a drunken loll than a proper shake. He groaned again, the motion having jostled his head enough to bring the pain there into focus. He felt as though he'd taken several blows to the head during a training match with his sensei. The thought of Gai-sensei stirred memories at the edge of Lee's mind and a desperate feeling that constricted his throat. What had happened? Why were they in the hospital? What had he been drugged with that was making it so difficult to move?

Something was definitely wrong. He could sense it. He didn't need to see Tenten's bloodshot, red rimmed eyes to know, but it was the air of resignation that hung about Neji that most set him on edge.

“I—” He coughed again, and his head throbbed violently. He tried to lift his arm, but found he couldn't. He jerked his arm again, the muscles responding despite whatever drugs were slowing them down and making them weak. At first he thought he was still too heavily sedated, but as his head cleared little by little, throbbing with each passing moment, he felt more fully the thick straps across his chest, legs, and wrists. “What—why am I—what are these for?”

Tenten glanced back at Neji, biting her lip. “It's...so you won't get hurt.”

Lee frowned. “I do not understand.”

“You don't remember,” Neji stated with a heavy sigh.

“I do!” Lee objected. He paused, racking his brain for any memories at all that could give him answers; they surfaced like someone coming up for air after being underwater for far too long. The memory was hazy and incomplete at first, but it was enough to prove Neji wrong. “We went to Kumogakure with Gai-sensei and Kakashi-sensei. We had a mission to—to fetch Naruto-kun.”

He glanced at Neji, frowning as the memories began to solidify and something like agony burrowed its way into his chest. “We failed.”

“Yes,” Neji said heavily. “We did.”

That wasn't it though. Neji wouldn't care so much about the failure of this mission—abstractly they would care about it because any failure was worth concern, but there was something else that Lee was missing, something so desperately wrong, something so bad that it had altered the world even if Lee couldn't figure out how. His head throbbed again as he tried to find the memories: fire and stone, enemies that would not die, and then—

Pain blossomed like a poisonous flower, unimaginable and intangible, as the memory of Gai-sensei's final moments overwhelmed him. A shock went through him and his head ached against the memory, as though his subconscious hadn't wanted to release to him. He made a sound at the back of his throat like a dying animal, struggling against the heaviness in his limbs and the restraints, breathing heavily and his vision blurring. “Gai-sensei! What happened—where is Gai-sensei!?!”

Tenten backed into Neji's bed, her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. Neji was silent, his back stiff against the pillows of his bed. His silence was all the confirmation Lee needed.

“No,” he whispered desperately, tears in his eyes. “ _No._ No, that cannot—no! I refuse to accept that!” Lee's head spun, his vision tunneling. His heart beat rapidly out of his control as he spiraled into that desperate feeling. His hands gripped the fabric of his bed sheet, clenched tight in a crushing grip. He wheezed, yanking his arms and legs, trying to free himself from his prison. His bed rose with his effort and clattered nosily on the tile floor, creaking in protest, but unwilling to release him.

“I—I'm going to get the Hokage,” Tenten said, her voice breaking.

“What happened?” Lee growled, glaring at Neji as Tenten fled. Anger burned like a festering wound; it was easier than the pain that twisted in his heart. “Why did we abandon Gai-sensei?!”

Neji hung his head, clenching his hands in his lap. “Because we had to.”

“We did not have to! I could have done something! I could have saved him!”

“How, Lee?” Neji asked, his voice soft. “We were outnumbered. The enemy wouldn't stop coming, I was already out of the fight. What could you have done to save us all? Gai sacrificed himself so that we would all live—"

“We did not all live!” The words felt raw, ragged, ripped from him. “What did you do to me? Why do my muscles feel so—so—”

“Weak?”

 _“Yes,”_ Lee snarled. “What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything. Kakashi sedated you so we could leave. Gai gave him the sedative.”

Lee felt as though he'd been slapped across the face. A sob escaped him, tears rolling down his face in waves and falling into his ears. “You are lying,” he said softly. That couldn't be right; Gai-sensei would never do something like that. He would want Lee to save him, to fight beside him. It simply couldn't be true.

His chest rose in sharp bursts, his head spinning and his vision spotting. He needed to escape, to find Gai-sensei, to do anything but lie here stuck in a hospital bed with only a few minor injuries. A broken ankle was nothing compared to the loss of Gai-sensei.

“I'm sorry,” Neji said after a long minute of silence, filled only by Lee's panicked breathing. “If there'd been another way—"

“Stop it,” Lee pleaded, his voice thick. “I do not care what excuses you have. You—you—I hate you.”

Neji didn't say anything else after that.

Lee strained against his restraints one last time before collapsing into the bed. He stared, unseeing, up at the ceiling, tears still falling. He could not wrap his mind around the reality of the situation. Distantly, Lee remembered his talk with Gai-sensei just before they'd entered the mountains, and the memory felt like bile in his throat. Lee wanted to scream and cry and break everything in the room. He wanted to find his sensei, he wanted everything to be okay.

But absolutely nothing was, least of all Lee.

Five minutes later, the sound of wooden sandals on tile floor met Lee's ears. With each successive _clap clap_ , Lee grew more and more agitated, and he began to struggle against his restraints with renewed vigor, determined to face Tsunade properly.

“I'd stop that if I were you,” the Hokage warned, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

Lee glared. “You are not me,” he pointed out, uncaring of his manners.

Tsunade arched an eyebrow. “True, because if I were you I'd watch my tone.”

Lee ignored her in favor of struggling against his bonds. If he hadn't been drugged so heavily, he'd be free by now. He was sure Tsunade knew that.

“If you don't stop, I'm going to keep you sedated through the rest of the war and you can sit it out,” Tsunade snapped, finally stepping into the room. Lee continued to ignore her.

“Stubborn as ever,” she muttered. “Lee, I do not have the patience or the time for this. If you'd like to test my strength, then please keep this up.”

Lee stilled, turning to glare at her. “I do not care,” he said. “I am going to find Gai-sensei.”

“Don't be a fool, Lee. What do you expect to accomplish by going after Gai? He's gone, Lee. You need to accept that.”

“I do not!” Lee shouted, guilt and anger and frustration and unimaginable pain tearing the words from him. “I will not accept that! I will find him! I will! No matter what it takes, I will find him and bring him home.”

“Neji, can't you talk sense into him?” Tsunade asked, turning to Neji. He remained quiet, turning his head away from her. She huffed, looking back to Lee. “He's dead,” she went on harshly. “You'd only find a corpse hellbent on killing you. Accept his death or you can stay here for the rest of the war.”

Lee met Tsunade's gaze, glare for glare. He wouldn't let her win this, he wouldn't let her keep his sensei from him. If she hadn't sent them on that pointless mission, so determined to bring Naruto back as though he were their one and only hope, then his sensei would still be with him; if Tsunade had only had faith in her people, his sensei wouldn't have had to risk his life to save them.

“We should not have gone on that mission,” he said, feeling reckless.

Tsunade sighed. “The mission may have been compromised, but we need Naruto here—”

“No,” Lee snapped. “We do not. You need him here because you have lost faith. I have not and that is why I will not give up on Gai-sensei.”

Tsunade stared at Lee, her jaw clenched so tight Lee could see the muscles working. “Don't push this, Lee. If I have to, I'll demote you.”

Lee sucked in a breath, straining to sit up. “You would not!” 

“I would. I'd take that hitai-ate away from you completely. A shinobi follows orders, Lee. If you can't do that then perhaps you do not deserve to be a shinobi.”

“A shinobi must do the honorable thing!” he argued, fresh tears in his eyes. “A shinobi must follow their nindo and do what is right! You gave us orders that led us right into danger all because you do not believe in the shinobi who fight for you!” He collapsed against his bed again, shaking and chest heaving. The fight went out of him as desperation overwhelmed him. “Gai-sensei cannot be dead. Please, Hokage-sama, please let me find him.”

Tsunade shook her head, turning from Lee. “Once you've calmed down, you'll see there's no hope.”

“No hope,” he repeated, numbly, staring at the ceiling. Tsunade was truly lost, Lee realized, If she could not see that there was hope, how could she lead them? Lee would find his sensei no matter what anyone said, and if he lost his position as a shinobi because of that then at least he would know that he hadn't given up hope.

***

They'd lost more than half of their comrades.

In his heart, he'd known they wouldn't all survive. If even five of them made it to Ishigakure then it would be a stroke of luck, but the reality of it weighed heavily on Hei. Losing so many of his friends, his comrades, his people was enough to break him. He had led them this far, he had saved more by abandoning their post, but knowing that did not ease the ache of loss.

Daisuke kept it together, despite facing off against many of his own people. Hei was grateful for his presence, silent and confusing as it was. The war had brought with it many difficult trials and Hei had begun to doubt that any good would come of it, but Daisuke was solid and sure against the enemy. Perhaps it was because he was slightly older, perhaps it was because he'd already lost his village, but Hei took comfort in the fact that Daisuke had not yet given up, had not yet stopped fighting.

“How do you do it?” he asked, as they trudged through the humid forests of Bird Country.

Daisuke glanced at Hei, brow furrowed. “What?”

“This,” Hei said, gesturing around them. Behind them, Hei's comrades followed, exhausted and injured and scared. “You've lost your village, but you're here fighting for ours. Why?”

Daisuke's expression softened and he turned quickly away, keeping his eyes forward. “I do what I have to. It's not for your people—or mostly not. I won't lie: I wanted to abandon this,” he said, sneering, his hand falling to the hitai-ate he'd wrapped around his waist. “I wanted to abandon your village, your comrades. I didn't because I was afraid of what your people would do to my sister.” He paused, his silence heavy. Hei waited a beat, glancing back at the nearly sixty shinobi following behind them; he wondered if there would be even less if Daisuke hadn't stayed.

“I didn't want to see another village end up like mine though,” Daisuke said after a long thoughtful silence, the words barely audible. “Even though I hated what your elders had forced me into, I couldn't just—just leave them. I'm a shinobi, even if I was a coward to flee from my village—”

“You're not a coward,” Hei interrupted. Daisuke glanced back at him, surprise softening the distant mask he always wore. Hei looked away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don't think you are. You did what you had to do. You saved your sister, you warned my people of the danger they were in, and you saved those who'd been forced to stay behind. Running isn't always cowardly.”

Daisuke pressed his mouth into a thin line, expression shuttering. “Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully. “But who can say that I've done your people any good? I may very well have brought this on them, brought this on you. If I had died with the rest of my village maybe yours would still be standing.”

Hei shook his head. “We'll never know. We only have the circumstances given to us, and if you ask me I think you've helped us.”

Daisuke regarded Hei from the corner of his eye. After a minute, he looked away, shaking his head. “You're strange. I've never been complimented by someone from another village so readily.”

Hei laughed softly, shrugging. “I've got a soft spot for pretty faces, I guess.”

Daisuke didn't reply, but Hei could see that he was grinning.

“When we reach Ishigakure, I'll speak with the elders. Even if my grandfather is dead, they'll listen to me.”

“What exactly are you going to say?”

Hei paused, unprepared for the question. He honestly hadn't thought it through, but the reality of what the elders had done to Daisuke did not sit well with him. If they were to rebuild Amegakure, then they could not start with such underhanded tactics. Amegakure had been subjected to that for years from the great nations and, while Ame certainly wasn't innocent throughout the history of the world, he could not deny that it left him bitter. But Ame could start fresh now, get rid of the underhanded dealings, the political games, the bureaucracy—they could thrive again without all of that.

He couldn't say why he was so sure of this, only that he was. He was also sure that Daisuke would help make that happen.

“Honestly,” he said, “I don't know yet. I just know that when we return to Ame, I want you and your sister to feel welcome. You're not bound to our village, you have no allegiance to it and what the elders did to you—it doesn't foster goodwill. I don't want this war to end with more bitterness between villages.”

Daisuke looked at him again, a careful inspection of Hei's face, his own expression neutral. Hei waited, his breath caught in his throat.

“I think I could call Ame home,” he said. “If those elders are dealt with.”

Hei grinned. “I promise, they will be.” 

***

Kumo was burning.

From her vantage point, beaten and bruised and bleeding from her side, Haruna watched as her village turned to ash. The fires were dying down now, and soon all that would remain would be the smoking embers. It had been a long, hard battle, but at least all was not lost. Most of the citizens had been evacuated in intervals before the battle had started—children with their mothers had gone first, accompanied by Genin too young to properly fight a war, ensuring the future of Kumo and saving them from finding small bodies in the rubble later; then the elderly and the sick had gone; and so on until most of the villagers had been safely out of harm's way. There had still been civilian deaths, but far fewer than there would have been had Haruna not realised or let her familial ties keep her silent.

The shinobi causalities outweighed the civilian's, but more than half of Kumo's forces still remained. It was not a good day, but they would persevere. Kumo would not die.

The Raikage, however, was missing.

Haruna closed her eyes, looking back at the shinobi gathered with her. They'd been separated from the other survivors, but that was the least of her concerns. She coughed, blood splattering the hand that covered her mouth.

“Do we have medics with us?” she asked, glancing around at the other injured shinobi.

No one stepped forward. Haruna sighed.

“All right, those who are able, tend to the wounded. We'll scout out shelter once we're all patched up, then whoever wants can head to the safe house. Otherwise, you can join me in searching for the Raikage.”

Around her, shinobi began to move. Those without serious injuries tended to those with, while others formed a perimeter. Haruna sat on a rock as a young man examined her side. His hands shook as he tore strips of fabric from his ragged shirt, making a makeshift bandage that he wrapped around her midsection. She clenched her teeth at the pressure on her injury, but it was a bearable pain; she would certainly live through the night so long as they weren't attacked again. 

After an hour, they set off, making their way down the mountain they had escaped to, heading southwest and away from Kumo. Once they were far enough away, they could find shelter. Her comrades were worn down, exhausted to the bone; if they traveled for longer than a day, she was sure the minor injuries would become serious and the major injuries would turn fatal. 

It took them half the night to find shelter, but as the sky turned from black to blue they came upon a small cave just off an old trade route. The shinobi crammed in, thirty-five bodies piled on top of one another but none complaining; it was better than being dead, after all. 

“We'll need someone to keep watch,” she said as her fellows found empty stretches of stone to lie on. “Who's up for first watch?”

A few shinobi raised their hands. “Good. You two,” she said, pointing to twin girls with white hair and deep brown skin. “In two hours, those two will take your place.” She pointed to two shinobi near the farthest wall. “We'll keep a cycle going. Two people for every watch. Whoever feels up to it, volunteer now. If you're seriously injured, you're free to keep resting.”

After a few minutes of confusion, everything was in order and the twins stepped outside. Haruna closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She was far too old for this sort of thing; she shouldn't have allowed the Raikage to convince her to keep her position. Retirement would have been so much nicer than this.

She snorted. Retiring in the midst of war was laughable. Old as she was, she would see this war to its end or die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who maybe forgot since she was only a one-off character in the war, [Pakura of the Scorch Release](http://naruto.wikia.com/wiki/Pakura) is a canon character. I decided to use her backstory for Takako, who is also technically canon only she's unnamed. I posted a link on the chapter Takako was introduced to just now, but since I'd forgotten to earlier, here is [Takako's wikia page.](http://naruto.wikia.com/wiki/Iwa_Kunoichi)
> 
> Check out [this art](https://brianadoesotherjunk.tumblr.com/post/162450244021/lovelyloonylovegood-this-is-what-i-wanted-to) that briandoesart created based on a scene from this chapter!


	13. Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War is a dark time, but hope lingers, just out of reach yet ever present. Giving up on hope has the potential to forsake them all; as a leader he has to know when hope will save them and when it will lead them astray, when saving one life will save thousands and when it will risk the lives of others, when doing what is right is worth the risk and when doing what is easy is the only course of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter focuses a bit on torture, so just be aware. It's not _too_ graphic, but I want everyone prepared.

Anything was justifiable if it meant obtaining peace. 

There was nothing he would not do to achieve his goal to win the war. He would use Kabuto's puppets; use Zetsu's abilities; use the Rinnegan; use the Biiju; he would kill and torture until he achieved his goal. By any means necessary, that was the only way he could win. He never entertained the notion of failure for long, because it simply did not seem possibly to him. His plans were too carefully constructed for failure; his armies were too powerful: unkillable resurrected soldiers with all the skills they'd had in life, now bound to him; the untouchable dark shades he'd created from shadow and the hatred of the world; Zetsu's many clones waiting in the earth, still unknown to the shinobi world—this alone was enough to win.

The nature of war was unpredictable, however. He might have the advantage one day, then lose it the next, and Madara was no fool. Anything could happen to change the course of events, which was why he had a contingency plan if the unlikely came to pass and he lost: Uchiha Sasuke would continue his noble mission. It was the perfect back up plan, but for months now he had not felt it necessary. Everything was going according to plan, everything was falling into place perfectly, everything until Maito Gai.

Maito Gai was the unpredictable element of war, an unexpected event he hadn't planned for, a tiny snag in his carefully laid plot. He could not decide how Gai's presence would turn the tide of war; if it would improve his chances of winning; if it would weaken them; or if it would do nothing at all. On the one hand, Gai's comrades had escaped, which meant news of Kumo would spread quicker than he'd hoped; on the other hand, Madara could not help but wonder why four Konoha shinobi had been en-route to Kumogakure when their own village was weak. It had to be something of incredible importance for the Hokage to order such strong shinobi away from the village. If he could uncovering the reason for such a journey, if it was what he hoped for, then Gai would be exactly the stroke of luck Madara had been waiting for. Unfortunately, Gai—foolish as Madara found him to be—would not reveal any information. His silence did not put him off—if anything, it confirmed the inkling he had that Maito Gai had been coming for the Jinchuuriki. 

He'd called Kabuto, ordering him to return to Kumo at once, but Kabuto did not heed the call. He waited two days before giving up on that plan. He didn't have time to wait, especially if his hunch was correct. The Jinchuuriki were too important and he could not delay obtaining them any longer. He'd already come so close. Zetsu's last message had given him coordinates to an island that, when he'd gone to search for it, had simply not been there and it had left him desperate. So desperate. Waiting for Kabuto simply wouldn't do. 

By any means necessary. Nothing else matter but winning the war. 

Gai was not an easy subject to torture, though. His pain tolerance was unimaginable, his muscle control far above average, and his endurance unwavering. Madara was not deterred; he knew that he would eventually crack Maito Gai. The trick was somewhere in his mind. 

It was so simple that he should have thought to do it sooner. Physical torture hadn't gotten him anywhere—if anything it had set him back. Gai was strong—too strong—but even the strongest shinobi couldn't last forever under such intense pain, even the strongest shinobi had a breaking point and hitting that breaking point would not be conducive to obtaining answers. Physical torture was often such a double-edged sword, and psychological torture could be even more of a drawback. 

But Madara had ways to trick the mind. All he had to do was give the person what they wanted most in the midst of such hell and everything they kept hidden would come to light. Gai was beyond pain and completely vulnerable to his Sharingan after days of endless torture. Perhaps he'd been heavy handed in his torturing, but that didn't matter so long as he uncovered what he needed. 

“You've been an invaluable resource,” he murmured, idly twisting a dull screw further into Gai's shoulder. He'd let his frustration get to him and he'd fallen back on torture, but it didn't matter now. He could tell he was close to the knowledge he sought. Just a little more probing and he would have it. “You've proven strong, but now...now I will have what I want.” 

Gai's eyes were dull, unfocused and glassy, but Madara caught his gaze and activated his Sharingan. They slipped into a dream and Madara smiled, triumphant as he watched Gai's most private comforts unfold. He sneered at the face of Hatake Kakashi, a familiar rage stirring, but shied away quickly at the private moment he'd found himself in. The dream changed, and he watched curiously as the scene unfolded, as a young man much like Gai in appearance, accompanied by two others appeared. It made sense that Gai would find comfort in others, but people were unreliable, a fact he was about to prove with Gai once he found what he needed. 

Gai's mind, however, was one track. He could not force it away from the comforts it so longed to return to. Madara canceled the jutsu, tearing his gaze away from his half-conscious guest in frustration.

“I—” He turned to Gai, watching curiously as his mouth moved, eyes blown wide with recognition. “You—I know—”

“You know nothing,” he snapped, whirling away. “And if that is the case, then you will die soon. If there is anything you'd like to share—anything at all—it would be wise to do so now. Our next meeting will be our last.” 

He left the room, hurrying away from that knowing look.

***

“So what's in the book?” Omoi asked, leaning over Hana's shoulder to peak at the contents of the notebook.

Hana bared her teeth, moving the book from his line of sight. “Nothing that you'd understand.” 

“Oi, oi!” Omoi said. “I've got brains, I bet I could figure it out.” 

Hana rolled her eyes. “Unlikely. It's written in code and it's all medical jargon anyway. What do you know about medical techniques?” 

Omoi shrugged. “Come on, come on. I just wanna look at it.” 

“That's enough,” Tsume barked. She held out her hand for the notebook, returning it to her pack. “None of us here are equipped with the necessary knowledge to understand what's in this. We need someone to break the code, and someone like the Hokage to even begin to understand what it all means.” 

“So, there wasn't anything in there? No clues as to where he might be?” Samui asked. 

Hana shook her head. “Nothing that I could understand without a key. That code is too complicated for me to break. We need a specialist.” 

“Then are we going home?” Kiba asked hopefully, looking up from his food. 

“No, Kiba,” Tsume said. “Once we've finished eating, we'll head to the town over. I want to track these rumors we've heard so much about.” 

Kiba's shoulders slumped. “Right.” 

“Soon,” Tsume promised. “We'll go home soon. At the end of the week if we haven't found anything more.” 

“Do you really think we should call it quits that early?” Darui asked. 

Tsume regarded him coolly. “Our villages need this information. So far, it's all we've found. I think delaying our return home much longer would be folly. If we're going to find anything more, we'll find it by week's end, otherwise we're just wasting time.” 

“Sorry,” Darui muttered. “You're right.” 

“Cool,” Samui said. “I'm sick of this mission. Our villages could be marching to war right now and we'd never know it.” 

Karui snorted. “Lighten up, Samui.” 

“No, she's right,” Darui said. “We do need to end this mission. The sooner we return to Kumo the better, and the sooner we get that book to the Hokage, too.” 

Karui sighed. “Yeah, it'll be good to go home. And I can't wait to get the smell of Konoha dog off me,” she said with a laugh, scratching Akamaru's head. He barked, jumping up to lick her face. “Hey!” 

“Akamaru,” Kiba growled. “Quit it.” 

“It's fine,” Karui said, wiping her face. “Ain't no reason to get mad. He's cute. My favourite Konoha dog, aren't you, Akamaru?” 

Akamaru wagged his tail, barking happily. 

“Traitor,” Kiba muttered. 

“All right, all right,” Tsume said. “Let's just finish up quickly. I want to head out in the next ten minutes. The next town's only an hour away, but it'll be dark soon and I'd rather not travel at night if we can avoid it.” 

“Yeah,” Omoi agreed. “I know we haven't seen any dead guys or nothin', but this place gives me the creeps, to be honest.” 

“Yeah,” Karui agreed. 

“It's like we're being watched,” Samui said. 

“That's because we are being watched,” Tsume said grimly. “Now hurry up.” 

***

Tsunade tapped her foot, glaring across the hall at Rock Lee, who was accompanied by an ANBU guard. She'd been called to the hospital only an hour after leaving with the news that Rock Lee had disappeared. His bed had been destroyed, the restraints broken, and the window was wide open leaving no one with any doubt as to where he was going. 

“You,” she growled, “are testing my patience.” 

Lee didn't respond as he was guided back to his room. The ANBU wasn't from Konoha, which meant Tsunade probably had the Kazekage to thank for this, damn him. It was quite the sight to see: a haughty Rock Lee, dressed in his usual suit (which Tsunade suspected Tenten had brought him and she would certainly be talking to her about that), hobbling down the corridor with a Suna ANBU at his side, and the Hokage trailing after them.

“You may pretend you don't hear me, Lee,” Tsunade said, “but if you make a habit of this, you will be punished. Don't push me.” 

Again, Lee remained quiet.

“If you won't listen to me, then I'll have to assume that you're a liability. A shinobi who disobeys his Kage is not to be trusted. Are you really trying to get yourself in the Bingo Book?” 

Lee tripped over himself, the cast around his ankle making him stumble to a stop, his hands clenched into fists. He turned his head slightly, giving Tsunade a good look at his profile—his jaw was tense and his mouth pressed into a tight, thin line; his heavy brows were furrowed and his eyes set on the wall. There was a deep cut beneath his eye and a fading bruise near his mouth. He looked fierce, nothing like the young man she'd known only weeks ago; now he looked like a battle-hardened shinobi who'd seen far too much. He turned away after some consideration, continuing to his room. 

“I'm amazed,” Tsunade said, shaking her head. “To think Gai's successor would become such a dishonorable shinobi. He'd be disappointed Lee.” 

In the blink of an eye Konoha ANBU materialized, pinning Lee to the ground at Tsunade's feet. He struggled against them, practically snarling, spit flying as he fought against them. Tsunade stared, wide eyed as Lee was pulled to his feet. 

“You'd attack your own Hokage,” she breathed. “Have you lost your mind, Lee?” 

He glared at her, tears in his eyes. “Gai-sensei would not be disappointed in me,” he challenged, his voice shaking and thick with emotion. “He would be disappointed in you, Hokage-sama.” 

Tsunade forced down the guilt that prickled at Lee's words. She would not let him convince her this was her fault; she couldn't have known what would happen. She was doing all she could to keep her people alive and safe, what more could Lee ask of her? Tsunade simply could not risk a mission to save Gai, Lee needed to understand.

She glanced at her guards, raising her hand in dismissal. They hesitated. “Leave,” she said firmly. “He won't try that again. And,” she paused, glancing to the Suna ANBU who had remained impassive the entire time, “I'm sure our allies won't allow harm to come to me.” 

The Suna ANBU inclined his head. Her own vanished. 

“You realize I could have ordered them to kill you,” Tsunade said, glancing at Lee with a raised eyebrow. “You're lucky they didn't do so immediately. I ought to take your hitai-ate away.” Lee glared in challenge, lifting his chin. He was so tall now, but his face still held that boyishness from his childhood. She searched his face, looking past the cuts and the bruises and the hard set of his jaw for the boy he'd been, the boy she'd saved years ago. She found him; he was still there beneath all the pain and anger, a shadow of the Genin he'd been when she'd first met him. Her heart ached to see that child fading; she wanted Lee to still be that little boy, walking around on crutches and staring forlornly out of hospital windows, almost beaten but not quite ready to give up on his dreams. Knowing his dream as she did, despite everything, she still wanted to protect it; she wanted him to succeed. Despite all her frustrations, she couldn't bring herself to take that from him even now. 

“Then t-take it,” he said obstinately, his voice quavering. He untied the hitai-ate from around his waist and held it before himself in both hands. “I will not abandon my sensei, Hokage-sama. No matter what you say, I will do everything I can to leave and find him.” 

“Even giving up on your nindo?” she asked, fighting back the guilt, the frustration, the anger at the war for bringing this about. When had Lee become this man? When had he stopped being the child she'd saved? 

“This is my nindo, Hokage-sama,” he said, taking a step forward. She felt the ANBU beside her shift and Lee's eyes darted to him briefly. He thrust the hitai-ate farther before him, bowing completely. “I would rather die than leave my sensei behind.”

“Oh, Lee,” she murmured. “You're a fool. Gai sacrificed himself so you could live. Don't do this.”

“Please, Hokage-sama, I can do nothing but this.” He was choking on the words, his hands shaking. Tsunade was sure his resolve would crumble the moment she reached out; she didn't know how he'd summoned the strength to remove the sash in the first place. “P-please, Hokage-sama. I am begging you. L-let me leave. Take away my rank, take away my hitai-ate. I will gladly give up my dream to you if you p-please—please just let me find my sensei.” 

Tsunade felt the prickle of tears and the tell-tale tightening in her throat. She shook her head. “I can't do that, Lee.” She turned her back on him, forcing him to keep his hitai-ate or else drop it at her feet. She waited, but the sound of metal hitting the ground never came. She clamped down on a relieved sigh. “Go back to bed, Lee.” 

She glanced over her shoulder, watching him straighten and wipe tears from his eyes before limping down the corridor, his sash dragging and the sound of his cast hitting the floor like the dull ticking of a clock. It was only a matter of time before he tried this again. He paused at the door to his room. “I-if I were at my best, I would already be gone, Hokage-sama. I do not need you to rescue Gai-sensei.” 

She sighed as Lee disappeared into his room. “That's what I'm afraid of.” 

She was silent for a moment, staring down the corridor, unseeing. Finally, she turned to the ANBU still at her side. “Did the Kazekage order you to watch him?” 

“I am not permitted to say, Hokage-sama.” 

“Of course, but if you've been appointed his watch dog, then be warned: Lee is the fastest shinobi in this village now. He's going to make another break for it, drugged or not, and as you can see that cast is barely slowing him down. If you fail, he will die. No matter what he thinks, no matter his resolve, he's in no shape to face the enemy or rescue Gai; if he tries to, he will fail and it will kill him. Don't let that happen.” 

The ANBU inclined his head. “Understood, Hokage-sama.” 

Tsunade hesitated, then turned heading down the hall. She paused at the end of the corridor, glancing over her shoulder. “And tell your Kazekage thank you.” 

“I shall pass the message along.” 

***

Kichirou had never seen anything quite like the display of sheer determination and single-mindedness that he'd just witnessed from Rock Lee. Nor had he ever felt such sympathy for anyone from another village, but watching Lee struggle with the pain of losing his sensei had struck something in him. All shinobi understood loss, but so few seemed to understand hope. 

Lee had it in spades. 

Others would call him foolhardy and naive, but all Kichirou could see was hope shining in those ridiculously round eyes. The Hokage was certainly right that it would get him killed, though. Kichirou was still amazed that the Hokage's guards hadn't done the job themselves; Lee's speed had caught Kichirou by surprise and he was sure that the ANBU who'd restrained him had felt a similar thrill of terror. If that was not Lee at his best then Kichirou did not want to think about what might have happened in that corridor had Lee been at full strength. 

Kichirou had never considered Rock Lee a real threat before. All shinobi were threats, of course—especially foreign shinobi—but Rock Lee seemed to exist within a category all his own. He was goofy and peculiar. He did not strike fear into the hearts of those who met him, but seemed to inspire kindness where there should have been none. He'd defended the Kazekage to his own teammate, he wore legwarmers and a tight green suit that left no room to the imagination, he was loud and excitable and spoke his mind before he'd even had the chance to think about what he was saying. The Kazekage had been absolute in his decision to bring Rock Lee to Suna, even when his siblings had questioned the wisdom of it. 

Now Kichorou understood that Rock Lee was not to be underestimated.

The more he thought about it as he watched Lee, the more he worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up with him on his next escape attempt. Lee had disappeared so quickly that Kichirou had missed it at first. He'd turned away for only a handful of seconds, and when he'd looked back Lee was gone and his bed destroyed. The idea that the speed he'd witnessed hadn't even been Lee's best shook him to the core. Lee wasn't simply fast; Kichirou didn't think there was a word to describe the speed with which Lee had flown across the hall. ANBU were fast, but the ANBU who'd stopped Lee's assault on the Hokage had only just made it in time. 

He shifted, keeping his gaze on the window of Lee's hospital room. Lee was sitting in the windowsill, his eyes red and puffy, holding his hitai-ate loosely in his fingers. For all the world, he looked like he had lost all hope, but Kichirou did not believe that now that he'd seen what Lee was willing to give up for his sensei. It was completely irrational, completely beyond the thinking, but that seemed to be the sort of person Rock Lee was. 

The Kazekage had been direct, just as he always was, when he'd told Kichirou to keep an eye on Lee and to report anything that seemed important to him. Kichirou had assumed the Kazekage was concerned about the failed mission Lee had returned from, but now he wondered if the Kazekage hadn't been worried about this too. 

Whatever the Kazekage expected to come of this, Kichirou was sure that his report on tonight's events would surprise even him. 

***

“Heard Bowl-Cut tried escaping,” Kankurou said as he entered their hotel room. 

Gaara was sitting spread out on the couch, a pile of pillows as tall as he was sitting propped behind him at Temari's insistence. He hummed by way of response. 

“You heard?” Temari ask, poking her head out of her room. 

“Yup." Kankurou flopped into one of the armchairs gracelessly. “There were a few people looking for him while I was out. Your boyfriend stopped me, asked if I'd seen him.” 

Temari raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And did they find him?”

“It's taken care of,” Gaara murmured. 

Kankurou raised an eyebrow, pulling his hood off and running a hand through his hair. “You sure? Guy's fast as hell.” 

“I'm sure,” Gaara intoned, ending the discussion. He was in too much pain to go into detail right now, but word had made it to him through the ANBU ranks that Kichirou had successfully returned Lee to his room. He would have to wait until tomorrow for the full report, but he was still anxious for reasons he couldn't quite explain. It had been almost two days since Kakashi and Neji had returned with an unconscious and injured Lee, and no Maito Gai in sight, but still Tsunade had not debriefed him on the failed mission. Gaara would have gone to see Lee himself, but the pain in his ribs had been unbearable since his return. He'd tried to throw himself into his work to distract himself, but despite the ever growing pile of paperwork—mission reports, the news of Kusa and how they would proceed, plans to fortify their defenses, new information about the black-clad shinobi—he simply could not focus for long. 

It had taken him an hour to figure out that he was not just concerned for the failed mission, but for Lee's well-being. If Gaara knew Lee—and he thought he was starting to—then he was sure that Lee would do something reckless and hot-blooded. He hadn't expected Lee to attempt an escape the moment he'd woken, but he wasn't surprised in the least.

Kankurou shifted, stretching his legs out and yawning. “So, how's your ribs? Still bothering you?” 

Gaara looked up from the report he'd been trying to read. “Yes.” Kankurou and Temari asked him this everyday, at least three times a day. His answer never changed and he was starting to wonder when they would stop asking. 

“Damn, kid, you sure you're gonna be okay out on the front lines when it comes time to fight?” 

Gaara huffed, regretting the action immediately. He winced, knuckles clenching suddenly around the report and crunching the paper loudly in the silence. “I wish you would stop asking me that,” he ground out, closing his eyes. “I have to fight.” 

“Yeah,” Kankurou said, his voice catching. Gaara glanced at him, but Kankurou had turned away, moving into the kitchen. 

“We just worry,” Temari said, coming back out of her room. “You've been through a lot, and if this injury doesn't get better—I mean, Gaara it's been four months! If you don't start feeling better...” She left the rest of her sentence unspoken, but Gaara knew what she was afraid of.

“It is getting better,” he said softly. “It is healing, if not well or quickly. I simply need to adjust to the pain.” 

Temari sighed, leaning over the couch to look into his face. It wasn't often that she encroached on his personal space, but every so often she seemed to need to get closer to him, to make sure he was alive and whole. She stared into his face, sighed, and shook her head. She reached for his hair, ruffling it the way Kankurou always did. “We're still gonna worry, you know? No matter what you say, we can't help it.” 

“Besides, us worrying's gonna keep ya alive in the war,” Kankurou said around a mouthful of rice. “We'll be right there with you, watching your back.” 

Gaara smiled softly, glancing back down at his work. “I know.” 

“Hey, maybe now Lee's back you can get more of those gross dumplings? Those were helping, weren't they?” 

Gaara frowned. “Lee's in the hospital, Kankurou. He can't make dumplings while he's healing.” 

Kankurou snorted. “He just tried to leave the village, so I don't think he's really all that hurt.” 

“Perhaps,” Gaara said. “But he won't be interested in something like that right now.” 

Temari frowned. “What do you mean? He was perfectly happy to bring you dumplings before.” 

“His sensei is missing, presumed dead,” he said flatly. It was strange to say it out loud, to consider the reality that he would never see Lee with his sensei again. They had shared a strong bond, one that had saved Lee from Gaara in the past and had probably saved him from a lifetime of struggling before that; Gaara was absolutely sure that Lee would want nothing to do with dumplings until his sensei came home.

“Oh,” Kankurou said. “Yeah, I—maybe he could use a distraction though?” 

Gaara stared blankly at Kankurou. “Lee is single-minded. He won't be distracted from something like this.” 

Kankurou shrugged. “It's worth a shot, isn't it? I mean, if Bowl-Cut's so upset that he's trying to run off to save his dead sensei—”

“He might not be dead,” Gaara murmured, unable to stop himself. He didn't particularly care about Maito Gai, but he did care about Lee. They were friends and Gaara had very few of those—two, to be exact, if he counted Lee in with Naruto. He cherished the bonds of friendship he had, he wanted to protect them the way he protected his family and his village; friendship would always come third on that list, but he did care about his friends and if there was something he could do to help them, he would do it. 

Denying what was undeniable, however, was not like him. Perhaps Lee's influence had gotten to him; they had spent over a month on a mission together, after all. 

“Gaara,” Temari said, her voice laced with concern. “You don't really believe that. There's no way he could still be alive.” 

Gaara was silent, thinking. It was a completely ridiculous assumption, but the thought wouldn't let up. What if Maito Gai wasn't dead? What if he was alive? What if he was injured and trying to get home? Lee seemed to believe he could save his sensei, and Lee's unwavering faith in Gaara had helped him back in the desert. Perhaps Gaara could return the favor. 

“I don't know, but if Lee thinks he is he might be,” he said finally. 

Kankurou snorted. “Bowl-Cut's not exactly vying for shinobi of the year, ya know what I mean? He's a great guy, but Gaara, he's not exactly the most observant.” 

Gaara furrowed his brow, frowning. “Lee is not always the brightest, but he has proven that he sees more with his heart than many do with their eyes. I trust that he knows what he's talking about.” 

“And have you talked to him?” 

“You know I haven't,” Gaara said, irritated. His ribs were starting to ache again from all this talking, and the subject matter left him feeling jittery, the way he felt before a sandstorm. “But Lee wouldn't have tried to leave the village if he didn't think Gai was alive.” 

Kankurou and Temari shared a look. 

“Maybe,” Temari said carefully. “Or maybe he just can't accept it.” 

“Look, lil brother,” Kankurou said. “We don't know what happened out there. The Hokage hasn't told you squat, you haven't talked to Lee or anyone else who was there. And honestly, it's not your responsibility. I know he's your friend, but this is Konoha's business, not Suna's. Don't go sticking your nose in it.” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes. “Last time I checked, I was the Kazekage, not you.” 

Kankurou snorted. “Yeah, yeah, and last time I checked I'm still your big brother. I can't tell you what to do, but just—try to listen to what I'm sayin'. I don't think this is a good idea. Whatever happened out there, it's over and done. Lee will bounce back someday; he has to have known that someday his sensei wasn't gonna make it back from a mission. He can't mourn forever.” 

“Kankurou's right,” Temari said. “It's not our business and Lee will cope. Eventually, he'll accept it. We all go through this at some point in our lives. Lee's just been lucky to have avoided it for this long.” 

“Lucky,” Gaara repeated, a distant memory surfacing. It felt like a lifetime ago, sitting beneath that tree with Lee and talking about bonds and luck. Maito Gai had taught Lee that luck was a part of being a shinobi. Gaara wondered if Maito Gai's luck had finally run out, or if maybe, just maybe he still had a little bit left. 

***

The last time San had marched to war they had not been known throughout the land. They had been just another warrior willing to die for their tribe, nameless to all those who'd fought against them, known only as San by their own people. Twelve years ago had been a dark time for the tribes of Wind Country: bloodshed and chaos reigned, countless wars were fought between tribes fueled by the Daimyo and his money bag. Before that final day, when San had stood victorious atop a plateau seeped in blood, things had not been peaceful for the tribes—they had not called each other comrades, friends, or allies; only enemy. 

It had been twelve long, peaceful years since that final day of battle and bloodshed; twelve years since any tribe had marched en mass to war, and even then nothing had been so impressive as all thirty remaining tribes marching as one army. Nor as frightening. If San were to face off against the army they now led, even with power over death, they would be afraid. 

They were anything but afraid now as they rode Kuu towards Suna, leading an army of nearly thirteen-thousand strong. Their ranks stretched a mile wide and several miles deep, their footfalls sending tremors even through the sand. All down the lines, the warriors banged their spears against shields, chanted and shouted rallying cries as they marched onward. The fear had not set in yet, not for San or for the people they led, but it would come. All good warriors knew to fear battle; those who did not grew arrogant and reckless, the fatal flaw all warriors possessed. 

San was not above such things, nor even the Kazekage. 

After so many years of living in peace, with only stray bandits and small groups of mercenaries to fight, (none of which had posed a challenge for San) they knew they needed to fear the heat of battle. Nothing else would keep them alive but fear—not skill, not the symbols of protection and strength painted on their body, not the Helm of the Great Beast they wore nor the beast they rode. The only thing that would matter when it came time to fight would be fear. 

San knew this, but still they did not fear battle and this frightened them most of all. 

“You seem troubled,” Yuka said beside them. Her dark eyes were on the horizon, scanning the rolling dunes and plateaus, taking note of every valley and canyon laid before their army, ever watchful of potential threats. 

“War is a troubling time,” San said. 

“Don't tell me you're worried about the outcome? San of the Red Rock couldn't possibly lose.” 

San laughed, humorlessly. “No one is so great a warrior that a battle not yet fought is a sure victory. I could die, just as easily as anyone else.” 

Yuka stared up at San, regarding them quietly. San had little desire to speak of their concerns, but they would not let Yuka falsely believe that they were above something as human as dying. At the end of the day, San was no less human than Yuka, and though others often spoke of them with the reverence reserved for gods, San knew better than to let such things trick them into foolhardy behavior. 

Silence settled between them, for which San was grateful. Around them the chanting continued, loud as a sandstorm raging across the desert, but San tuned it out; shut out everything, including their thoughts, and focused their senses on their surroundings, sharp eyes peeled for anything unusual. Suna was still a day and a half away, possibly more with such a large army weighed down by so much, but there was no telling what lay between them and the village. The resurrected and their forces were not the only threats in the desert, after all. 

San pushed Kuu forward faster, pulling away from the army. The chanting died slowly, like a ripple. Silence spread from the center, falling outwards until all was quiet around them and even the rumbling of marching feet had subsided. The wind rushed past San's ears as Kuu picked up speed. San lifted their spear, took aim, and then swiftly sent it sailing through the air. They turned Kuu sharply, veering to the right as the spear head landed in a soft patch of sand. 

As the point of the spear disappeared beneath the surface, a massive scorpion erupted from beneath, spraying sand and hissing loudly with its stinger whipping about. It flailed its massive claws in pain, the spear jutting from its eye—a lucky shot. San circled with Kuu, teeth barred. Scorpions were not common this close to Suna, and if it had not been for San's exceptional eyesight, their army would have marched right into a trap. 

San narrowed their eyes as they continued to circle the massive creature, pulling a length of cord attached to a glittering black blade from their satchel. It had been a gift many years ago from the Black Scorpion tribe—a peace offering and a gift to honor San when they had taken up leadership of their tribe. Scorpions had thick armor that little could pierce; brute strength alone would not win out and a blade would surely break against the hard shell of any full grown scorpion. But a blade fashioned from their own armor, tempered with a diamond tip could do the job. 

The scorpion hissed again loudly and behind San, they could hear the approach of their army—a mass of running feet shaking the earth. They turned, holding up a hand. “Be still, my comrades!” 

San was abruptly knocked from atop Kuu, the force of the scorpion's claw bruising. San flew from atop Kuu, flying into a dune. They hit the sand hard, rolling through it briefly before they came to a stop. San breathed in heavily, wiping grit from their face as they took stock. The armor they wore was cracked—better it than their ribs—and their arms were scratched all to hell, but no blood had been spilled. Shaking their head to clear it, their long braid undone and their hair spilling into their face, San rose.

From a distance too far for San to quickly reach, Kuu snarled and let out a roar that echoed across the desert. 

“Peace, my friend!” San called, watching fearfully as the scorpion faced off against their longtime companion. Kuu did not heed San's warning and charged. The scorpion's claws crashed down, sand flying into the air with the force of it. Kuu jumped, sailing into the air and landing on the scorpion's back, claws trying to rip through the armor but failing. The scorpion's tail slashed and swished, but Kuu was to close for the creature to land a strike. They rolled over the dunes, disappearing from sight, only the sound of their fighting and the steady spray of sand any indication as to what was happening beyond. 

San was on their feet, shaking from the fear that gripped them. They broke into a run, pushing forward at a furious pace, fighting against the sand that pulled their feet deep into its depths as they raced forward. A loud yelp stopped San in their tracks, before they picked up speed again, cresting the dune as Kuu was flung through the air. 

Two more scorpions had appeared, glinting black in the harsh sunlight. San stared for a heart-stopping moment at the blood seeping into the sand where Kuu lay, motionless save for the heavy rise and fall of his chest. All three scorpions advanced on Kuu, but San let out a fierce cry, deep and loud and challenging, drawing their attention. 

“Comrades!” San cried. “To me!” 

The ground shook as a small section of the army rushed to San's aid, led by Yuka. San did not wait for them, rushing to meet the scorpions head on. They picked up speed with the momentum of their downward decent, then sprang into the air, sailing towards the first scorpion. They grabbed their spear, twirling around it once before sailing onward, yanking the spear from the creature's eye. It hissed loudly, reeling backwards and flailing, but San paid it no more mind as twenty warriors sped towards it, weapons ready. They overtook the injured scorpion, turning it on its back and cutting through its soft underbelly. It let out a long, ear-piercing screech, then fell quiet, black blood oozing into the sand. 

San continued on, facing off against the two remaining, fury pushing them forward. They dodged one attack, rolling between the two scorpions. Their barbed tails flew towards San, but they were too swift. A second scorpion was skewered through the mouth as it reared, San's spearhead jamming into it with a sickening sound. They turned their spear sharply, but before they could retrieve it, they were forced to jump aside as the third and final scorpion made to attack. 

They pulled the chord of their knife, yanking the blade towards themself and catching it in their hand. The twenty warriors that had come to their aid surged forward, surrounding the creature and San, banging weapons against shields. The scorpion hissed, its black eyes roaming wildly around as it backed up. San snarled, then charged. The scorpions stinger came flying towards San, head on. They turned gracefully, avoiding the stinger and grabbing the tail, flying up into the air as the scorpion pulled back. San wrapped the chord around its tail, pulling tight, then yanked the blade up and with a swift swipe, sliced off the large barb with a vicious cry. 

San slid down the chord as the scorpion's tail twisted and writhed, spraying black blood into the air. They landed hard on the creatures back, driving the blade into its armor and twisting. The scorpion screeched, rearing up and shaking its back, but to no avail. San held fast to the chord that had tethered the creature's ruined tail to its back. San stomped down on the blade, pushing it farther into the scorpion's thick armor. 

“You will be still,” they snarled. “You will not move, monstrous creature. Or I will finish you as I finished your comrades.” 

The scorpion flailed again—once, twice, and then a final time before hissing and falling still. 

“A knife!” San called to their comrades. The scorpion hissed as a knife was thrown through the air, glittering as it spun towards San. They caught it at the hilt, then jumped down, between the scorpion's claws. San looked into its face, holding the knife before them. “Stay or I will put this through your eyes.” 

Scorpions were difficult to defeat, but even more difficult to tame. The Black and Red Scorpion tribes had spent many years learning to live with the creatures, but it had taken many lost lives over the centuries before they had finally made peace with them. Even now, scorpions would sometimes attack the village, and it was rare that the warriors of the tribe could control more than two scorpions at a time. But San would not be deterred, this monster would learn its place or die. 

The scorpion hissed, raising its claws, but San was too quick. They jabbed the blade into the scorpion's eye, yanking on the chord that still held its tail in place, curled over its back. “If you wish to keep your other eyes, you will learn my tongue, monster, and you will obey.” San yanked the knife from its eye. The scorpion hissed and screeched, but it made no attempt to swipe at San again. Finally, it fell silent, its three remaining eyes watching San warily. A low whimper caught San's attention and they turned, the fierceness in their expression faltering. The scorpion now forgotten, they rushed to Kuu's side and fell to their knees. 

The sand beneath Kuu was dark with his blood. San reached out, running their hand against Kuu's muzzle, smiling sadly as tears filled their eyes. “Peace, my friend,” they whispered, voice shaking. “You will be fine. I promise. We will—we will find someone to heal you.”

Behind them, San heard the soft sound of footsteps in the sand and then a shadow fell over them. Yuka's hand gripped San's shoulder, but San ignored her. 

Kuu's side was bloody, a deep gash that went all the way to the bone was visible beneath fur matted with blood. San swallowed thickly, turning away from the wound to look into Kuu's face. Kuu's eyes were lidded, staring up at San pleadingly. San choked back a sob, closing their eyes. “You ask too much of me, my friend.” 

San leaned forward, pressing their forehead against the side of Kuu's face, letting out a broken sob, gripping the fur at Kuu's neck. Silence weighed down on them, broken only by their cries. It frustrated San, angered them, shook them to their core. They let out a loud, angry yell, throwing their head back to scream their rage to the desert sky. Finally, they turned to Yuka, face tear-stained and dirty. “I need a clean knife.” 

Yuka had one already ready. It was a familiar blade—San had given it to Yuka as a gift twelve years ago when Yuka had become leader of her tribe. It was the symbol of peace between their tribes and it glinted brightly in the light, an obviously well-cared for blade. San took the handle, which was carved in the likeness of the great tigers of the Red Gorge tribe. 

San's hand trembled as they stared down at the blade. Kuu let out a soft whimper, nuzzling his face against San's lap. His golden eyes met San's and everything they had shared passed between them—their first encounter, their many adventures, the battles they had fought, the lazy days, everything up to this moment. San closed their eyes, leaning forward to press a kiss to Kuu's muzzle. Kuu purred weakly, nudging his nose against San's face. 

“Rest, my friend, and may the desert welcome you home.” San drove the knife into Kuu's neck swiftly, doing their best not to hesitate, not to shy away at the sound of ripping flesh and the squelch of blood that filled their ears. Kuu went still, the gentle hum of purring dying instantly. The heavy weight of his head in San's lap seemed to double as the life went from him. The knife fell from San's hand, covered in blood and no longer shining in the sunlight. 

Behind them, the warriors all bowed their heads. Yuka began to sing. It was a song of honor and death, a song to carry warriors to a peaceful afterlife; she was joined by the others, one by one, and soon the marching of the rest of the army could be heard. The shadow of the army fell on them and the singing grew around San. 

They cried quietly, hugging Kuu's head in their lap, and whispering the prayers of their people into Kuu's deaf ears, their final act of friendship with their lifelong friend. 

***

The children had whined and complained as though setting up the perimeter around the gates was just like any other annoying chore their parents might make them do. Tenten still hurt every time she saw their innocence shining through their newly crafted warriors' masks. She worried that someday that pain would go away, that eventually she would go numb to it top used to watching children pick up weapons for battle the way they'd once picked flowers in fields. In the last days of their innocence, Tenten hoped that she could find a way to apologize, to make up for robbing them of so much. 

Once the fighting started, she knew there would be no going back, not for them and not for her. 

Tenten was sure she was already lost to the war, that even if they announced their victory tomorrow she would never be the same. It wasn't just the children. Gai-sensei's death had come to her as a rumor, a whisper of her fears finally coming true. Neji's current blindness and Lee's injuries did nothing to reassure her. They were falling apart, and even the end of the war would not be enough to put them back together. 

All that kept Tenten going was the knowledge that at least Lee and Neji had come home, that at least they were out of commission and safe for a little while longer. 

If only the children could get out of their duty, then maybe Tenten could sleep at night. 

Tenten watched as two of her charges carried bags of sand towards the ditches that had been set up fifty yards from the wall at the edge of the trees. The last week had seen Konoha's forests and fields turned into battle zones: trenches had been dug and weapons had been brought out into the open. The citizens had become quieter, more reserved, always looking to the wall as though afraid the enemy might appear at any moment. The shopping district was the same as always, the residential districts and even the Red Light district had gone untouched; but in the forests and fields, Konoha was transforming. 

“It must be strange,” Higen said beside her, “seeing all this.” 

Tenten nodded. “Yeah." She watched as Sanae assisted a group of their charges with building up a wall of sand bags, the children wide-eyed with admiration for Sanae's strength. Tenten could remember when she'd looked at Gai-sensei like that, and now he was gone. It was a strange thought that left her eyes burning. She'd felt on the verge of tears for days now, and she was sure the next time she saw Neji and Lee she would not be able to contain herself. 

This war had simply taken too much from her. 

“Do you want to rest? I don't mind covering for you,” Higen said quietly. “I understand your teammates are in the hospital. You should spend time with them.” 

Tenten let out a breathy laugh. “I'm sure they'll get sick of me always coming around just so I can cry when I see them.” She shook her head, snorting derisively. She felt pathetic. 

“I'm sure they understand.” 

Tenten sighed. “Lee cries more than I do, honestly,” she admitted, smiling sadly. She hadn't seen Lee cry like he used to since he'd returned from the mission in Suna. He'd tried so hard after that mission to keep up his usual upbeat, positive attitude but Tenten had seen through it—they all had. It was Lee all over, trying to hide his fears and doubts so that his teammates wouldn't worry; but he should have known better than to think they would fall for it. Even if they didn't know each other so well, Lee was such an open book it almost made Tenten laugh. 

He and Neji had both taken on so much that neither was willing to share. It made her mad, the way they'd shut her out from their hearts, as though they thought she couldn't handle it. She didn't need them to be strong for her; no matter how pathetic she felt, no matter how much she cried, Tenten couldn't stand it when they did this. 

Maybe she would go visit them just to give them a piece of her mind. 

The anger left her all at once. There was no way she could yell at Lee, not right now. For all that he seemed harder and angrier since Gai-sensei's death, she knew he was more fragile than ever underneath it all. Lee was perhaps the strongest person Tenten knew, apart from Gai-sensei, but his heart was as soft as flower petals; the person he was trying to be would never be more than an act. Once Lee was ready to face the true depth of his pain, all the hard edges he'd built around himself would crumble like a broken antique.

“You should go spend time with them,” Higen urged. “We're fine here.” 

“I—I shouldn't. It's my job to oversee this, too.” 

Higen made a thoughtful sound, glancing at her. “It is, but you're teammates have only just returned and they are still healing. Plus with the loss of your sensei... You should take some time off from all this.” 

Tenten let out a harsh laugh. “Time off from war? That's not possible.” 

Higen shook his head. “We can't think about the war all the time; if we did that, we'd forget how to live once it's over. Go be with your teammates, Tenten. They need you now, probably more than you need them. We can get by without you for another day or two.” 

Tenten hesitated, swallowing the fresh urge to cry. “I—thank you.” 

He rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Go on already. We'll see you in a few days.” 

Tenten nodded, letting herself smile like she used to. Higen was right; Tenten had lost herself in the war and forgotten what it was like to live without it looming over her head. She couldn't shake the war completely, but she could at least take a brief reprieve. Besides, if she didn't spend time with Neji and Lee now, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to again; the war could take any one of them next, after all. Tenten didn't want to waste what little time they had left together if she could help it.

***

“Forgive me for taking so long,” Tsunade said, completely unrepentant. “As you know, things are quite hectic. The news of Kusagakure's fall has kept me busy. I trust you've seen the documents?” 

“Yes,” Gaara said, impatiently. “But that's not why I'm here. You promised you'd tell me about the mission to retrieve Naruto.” 

“Did I?” Tsunade hedged. “Huh, funny, I don't remember. Well, there's not much to tell. They were overtaken in the mountains about a day's travel from Kumo—”

“A day's travel? You didn't think that was important?” he snapped, clenching his hands. His ribs were screaming in protest, but Gaara was determined to see this through. His anxiety from the night before had settled into a restless energy at the back of his mind; he was too distracted to focus on his work, and after Kichirou's report on the events of the night before, he would not let the Hokage avoid him any longer. There was too much at stake for him to be left in the dark when so much had been riding on that mission; for one of their party not to come back—regardless of his budding friendship with Lee—Gaara needed to know. 

“Sit down, Kazekage. You're making my sides hurt just looking at you.” Tsunade rummaged through one of the drawers in her desk, finding a scroll and unrolling it. She scanned it, then glanced up at Gaara, an eyebrow raised. “I didn't have the chance to inform you sooner, and since there isn't much we can do about it—we just don't have the man power to spare. What would we possibly gain from sending a search party to Lightning? Gai is dead, and if it's as Kakashi said, then it's likely Kumo has been overrun.” 

“We need to know if the Raikage has been killed or captured,” Gaara said stiffly. “If Kumo has been taken we need to know how many survived.” 

“It's too great a risk. Between the two of us, our shinobi are already spread thin. We've sent out so many of our forces on errands of peace or to scout—my council and yours have butted their noses into this more than enough times. With Kusa also gone, we can't afford to send shinobi away from our village right now. We need as many capable fighters here.” 

Gaara shook his head. “You had plenty of capable shinobi when it suited you to bring Naruto home. If we could send shinobi to retrieve him, we can send shinobi to uncover what has become of Kumo."

Tsunade's nostrils flared, but she seemed determined to maintain civility. "That's reckless," she said evenly. "The forests aren't safe—"

"The forests haven't been safe in months, and you know it. It didn't stop you from sending that team to fetch Naruto, and it shouldn't stop you now. If Madara was going to attack the village, he'd have done so already. He's waiting, Hokage. He needs Naruto, and you nearly brought him here. If Madara has Kumo, then he's that much closer to his goal. We can't afford to let this go.” 

“We can't afford to abandon this village!” Tsunade yelled. “I won't have Konoha end up like Suna! Not again, not now. We will move forward, we will keep preparing. I have meetings today with several shinobi to discuss fortifying our defenses—”

“So you would move forward blindly?” Gaara asked, his voice low. Tsunade was trying to convince herself of her choices, it was clear that what was driving her forward was not the wisdom of a good leader, but the fear of a woman who'd lost too much. “We could be playing into the enemy's plans. He could already have Naruto for all we know. You nearly sent that team to their deaths because you were too foolish to listen to reason—”

“I will not be spoken to this way, Kazekage,” Tsunade bit off. “I am still the Hokage and the decisions I make surrounding my village trump yours—”

“Your decisions will bring us to ruin!” Gaara said, voice rising. His rib cage had ceased to be bone and muscle, and instead had become screaming agony. He ignored it valiantly, too angry to let himself give in to the weakness of humanity. “My villagers are here, too, Hokage. My peoples' lives are on the line, my shinobi are out there fighting just as hard. This war isn't yours alone, and I will be damned if I'm going to let you lead us to our deaths because you're too stubborn to listen to reason. We have the man power, we can afford to send a small team to Kumo—”

“And what would that do? If Hatake Kakashi and Maito Gai could not get through to Kumogakure, what makes you think anyone can?” 

“Because I have hope!” he shouted. His vision spotted and he ground his teeth, clenching his hands so hard his nails bit into his skin. “You have forsaken us, Hokage. I have not. That is where we are different, that is why I question your judgment.” He rose unsteadily to his feet, picking up his gourd and slinging it over his back. The sand hissed as it settled in its container, the weight comforting and familiar, but also a burden. 

Tsunade watched Gaara, her gaze intent. Gaara didn't know what had happened in her life to make her lose hope so readily, but he would not let her lead them down this path. He was the Kazekage of Suna, he might have failed to save his village but he had not failed to save his people; if there was hope, then he would find it. 

“There's nothing you can do, Kazekage,” Tsunade called after him as he left. “Remember, I wasn't the only one ready to bring Naruto home.” 

Gaara shook his head, glancing back at her. “Then maybe you've all forsaken us,” he murmured before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind him. If the Hokage would not listen to reason, then he would seek answers elsewhere: Lee would tell him everything without hesitation.

As he made his way down the hall, his eyes alighted on the familiar figure of Kakashi. He was leaning casually against the wall, his chakra masked and his nose in his book, though his eye did not move. Gaara slowed to a stop. 

“Kazekage-sama,” Kakashi said, quiet and cautious. “I thought we should talk. Do you have a moment?” 

Gaara stared, allowing his surprise to show for a brief moment. He'd known he could count on Lee to tell him what he needed to know—he'd already confided in Gaara once, and there was no doubt in his mind that Lee would want to tell him every detail of this mission if only to have someone in a position of power who wouldn't write him off. If circumstances had been less dire, Gaara might have felt guilty for taking advantage of Lee's openness when he didn't know if there was anything he could do for Gai, but he needed answers and Lee had seemed like the most obvious candidate to provide him with those.

Hatake Kakashi was a wild card that Gaara had never expected, but would gladly use.

“I have several,” he intoned brushing past Kakashi. “However, this is not the place. Meet me at my hotel. Be sure no one sees you.” 

“I think I can manage that,” Kakashi said as Gaara's sand enveloped him. Gaara returned to his room, dropping his gourd and moving to close the blinds over his window. He went into the common area, where he found Kankurou and Temari sitting down to lunch. 

“Woah,” Kankurou said, taking in Gaara's appearance. “Did it go that badly?” 

“As well as I expected,” Gaara said distractedly, closing the blinds in the kitchen. “However...” 

There was a knock at the door. Temari frowned, setting her food down and rising to her feet. “Gaara,” she said warily, “what did you do?” 

“Just let him in.” 

Temari opened the door, letting Kakashi inside and quickly closing the door behind her. She glanced over at Gaara, eyebrows raised in question. 

“Kazekage-sama,” Kakashi said. 

“Sit,” Gaara ordered, his tone clipped. The anxiety and pain he'd been fighting against all afternoon had overwhelmed him; he did not have the time or the patience for polite decorum. “What can you tell me?” 

Kakashi's visible eye crinkled and he waved a hand. “Officially, nothing. Unofficially...” He opened his eye, glancing between the Kazekage and his siblings. “I don't have to tell you that what I'm doing is treasonous.” 

“I'm aware,” Gaara snapped. 

Kakashi sighed. “What the Hokage didn't tell you is that in my report, I stated a desire to search for Gai myself.” 

“Why would you do that?”

“I have my reasons,” Kakashi said. “But that's not important. What is important—to the war and to Konoha—is that I saw someone in an Akatsuki cloak as I was escaping with Lee and Neji.”

Gaara's eyes narrowed. “Do you know who it was? Did you recognize them?” 

“No, and I checked the Bingo book as soon as I had the chance. Whoever they were, they aren't in there. But their presence alone gives me reason to hope. If Gai were facing down a mindless army, then he might be dead already, but if Madara was there or one of his lackeys...” 

“Gai might have been captured.” 

Kakashi inclined his head. “It could be that I'm just hoping for an excuse to look for him, but if you're planning to send a scout to Kumo I want in.” 

Gaara's mouth twitched. “What makes you think I'm sending anyone to Kumo?” 

Kakashi shrugged. “A hunch. And I'd like to take advantage of this opportunity. If Gai has been captured, he knows quite a lot about this war—about where Naruto is. He has a high pain tolerance, but even the best of us can fail to keep a secret at the best of times. I don't know what Madara's capable of, but I know he's powerful. If he wants information from Gai, he'll find a way to get it.” 

Gaara turned away, staring at the small kitchen that took up the back portion of their common area. Kakashi's information had provided him with just enough justification to send out a scout, but was it worth the risk? 

“If your Hokage finds out,” he said softly, “she won't take this lightly. You are not in my services and I am a guest in her village. This goes beyond a simple disagreement, you understand.” 

“Completely,” Kakashi said. “If it's too much trouble for you—”

“No,” Gaara said quickly, turning back to him. “I'm far less worried about the consequences of Tsunde finding out than I am of the ones we'll face if we don't go. Especially if Gai is alive. If we can uncover any information about the enemy then it will be worth it; and if all we can do is rescue Gai, I see no reason not to send a team. One man's life is just as precious as another. I won't leave him to the enemy if there's hope.” 

Kakashi regarded Gaara impassively before rising from his seat. “Well, I'd better get ready then.” 

“Be prepared to leave tonight, Kakashi. I'll have Aizo form a team. Lead them well, and do all in your power to bring them all back alive.” 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama.” 

Gaara hesitated, then waved his hand. “Dismissed.” 

He watched as Kakashi disappeared in a puff of smoke. Once he was gone, he turned around, heading for his room.

“Gaara,” Temari said carefully, her voice tight. “What the hell do you think you're doing? This isn't like you. I know you're worried about Lee, but this is—when the Hokage finds out—”

“I am doing what needs to be done,” he told her. “I am sick of Tsunade's pride ruling her choices, and I am sick of her power plays. She and I are equals, and I will not stand idly by while she leads us to ruin. Not when I have the power to do something about it.” 

“But—but Gaara,” Temari said, desperately. “This is a terrible idea. You're ordering a Konoha shinobi on a mission without the Hokage's consent! She's already made it clear she doesn't want to send a team to rescue Gai, so why—I understand what Kakashi said, but that's all speculation!” 

“Temari,” Kankurou said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Let him be.” 

Temari shrugged him off. “Don't—Kankurou, you said yourself, he shouldn't be involved. It's not our concern. Look, I'm just as worried about Lee, but this isn't going to help.” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes. “This isn't about Lee, Temari. This is about winning this war. Lee benefiting from this mission is entirely up to chance. If Gai's luck has held out, then they will be reunited and we may gain valuable knowledge, but this is about the war.” 

“Fine, but Gaara, think this through!” 

“I have. My decision is final. Now, excuse me. I have work to do.” 

“Gaara,” Temari tried again, then sighed heavily. “Fine. But when this all blows up in your face—” She cut herself off, closing her eyes. “Just. Be careful.” 

“I'll be in my room,” he repeated, before closing the door behind him and shutting out his siblings. 

***

The village just outside of Otogakure had a small inn just big enough for their party. The inn keeper had been reluctant to put them up when she'd seen their ninken, and even more so when she'd noticed their hitai-ate, but Tsume had dropped a sack of money on the counter worth far more than the asking price. The inn keeper had snatched it up immediately, as though she were afraid they might take it back.

The first two days they hadn't found much. The villagers gave them a wide berth, refusing to talk to them and only selling them food when they offered to pay double the asking price. Kiba would have preferred threatening them, but his mother had shot down the idea and promised to report him to the Hokage for abusing his power if he ever made such a suggestion again. 

On the third day, while out on his own with Akamaru, Kiba found a lead.

“I'm not payin' you that much, old man!” Kiba growled at the vendor. He'd been arguing with the man for five minutes now, which was four minutes longer than his patience could stand. “That ain't what the signs says!” 

“The sign is wrong! I had to update the price,” the vendor said quickly. “We can't afford the cost of meat these days. It's too high! If you want it, you'll pay the price. I know you shinobi are good for it.” 

Kiba was on the verge of threatening to break the man's cart when someone spoke. “Just give him the food.” 

The vendor's gaze slid past Kiba to a young woman with a missing arm and an eye-patch over her right eye. She was shorter than Kiba, with strawberry blonde hair and a crooked smile. She looked unimposing, even with the eye-patch, but the man handed over the food before pushing his cart away so quickly Kiba didn't have time to pay. He narrowed his eyes at the food, then glanced back at her. 

“Gee, thanks, but I was doing just fine on my own.” 

She raised an eyebrow, sending that crooked smile his way. “Sure you were, kid. But what's a little help between allied villages?” 

Kiba's eyes narrowed further. “What are you talking about?” 

She shrugged, glancing over her shoulder casually. “Come with me and maybe I'll tell you.” 

“Why would I do that? So you can ambush me?” 

She laughed. “Hardly. You've got quite a team with you. I'm not going to pull anything that'll just get me killed. I didn't escape Otogakure to throw my life away now.” 

Kiba's eyes went wide and he opened his mouth, then quickly closed it at the satisfied look she threw his way. He shuttered his expression, casually taking a bite of his food. “You expect me to believe that?” 

“Believe what you want, kid. I'm just trying to do you a favor. You've been to Oto. I know you have, I saw you there—and I'm not the only one who was watching. I'm just the only one who's gonna help you.” 

“I'm not going anywhere with you.” 

“Fine, take me to your room. I don't care where we go, but I won't talk here. Not out in the open like this.” 

Kiba huffed. “Fine. But stop calling me kid, I'm probably older than you!” 

The young woman snorted. “Fine, _old man_. Whatever you say.” 

Kiba opened his mouth to retort, then shook his head. He was wasting time arguing with her and if she did have information then he didn't want to scare her off, or piss her off for that matter. He huffed, nodding in the direction of the inn. “Come on, then.” 

Akamaru circled Kiba, glancing at the new arrival as they walked down the rode. He sniffed her hand, bumping his nose against it, making her laugh. Kiba didn't comment, but he took note of Akamaru's response. 

“So, do you got a name?” he asked, glancing at her. “I mean, I can't introduce you to mom if I don't even know your name.” 

She laughed. “Taking me home to your mother? A bit quick, don't you think?” 

Kiba rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna tell me your name or what?” 

“Nanako,” she said. 

Kiba snorted. “Big family?” 

Nanako smiled. “Five older brothers and an older sister,” she said simply. 

They fell silent after that, walking with Akamaru between them and a safe distance apart. Kiba wasn't ready to trust her, even if Akamaru was, but he'd at least hear her out—after all, it was the only real lead they'd had since coming to the village. Besides, he knew he could count on his mother to know whether or not to trust the information she had to offer. 

As they neared the inn, he spotted Hana standing just beneath the shade of the inn's awning, leaning against the wall, her ninken at her feet. He waved to her, holding his hand loose but with two fingers noticeably up, signaling company of an indeterminate nature. His sister returned the gesture, then disappeared inside. 

“One of your teammates?” 

“My sister.” 

“Big family?”

“Only if you count the dogs,” he said with a laugh. The Inuzuka clan itself was large, but his immediate family was small compared to Nanako's. He preferred it that way, though. 

Once they had reached the inn, Kiba stopped, turning to Nanako. “You know if you're lying you're not gonna get out of this, right? I mean, you don't seem so bad, so for your sake, I'm hoping this isn't some kind of trick. There's seven shinobi and four ninken inside who would be more than willing to kill you if you try anything.” 

Nanako's carefree smirk slipped, her expression turning serious. “I know that.” 

“All right then,” he said, and led her inside.

His sister was waiting for them, only one of her three ninken with her. She nodded to Kiba, ignoring Nanako completely. “We're upstairs. Karui went out not too long ago, so we'll need to wait for her to return.” 

“I can't stay long,” Nanako said, drawing Hana's gaze to her. 

“One of her teammates went to find her. They shouldn't be long.” She turned, making her way up the stairs and Kiba followed after. He stopped when he realized Nanako was still by the entrance, glancing nervously around the small lobby. She looked like a trapped animal, all the casual friendliness and confidence from earlier gone. Kiba's stomach dropped. 

She caught his gaze and her expression changed with the practice ease that only shinobi had. The grin she leveled at him was the same one she'd had when he'd first seen her—it was the mask she used to throw people off and set them at ease. Kiba would not let it fool him any longer. 

“Are you coming?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

She jogged up the stairs to meet him on the landing, then brushed right past him and followed after his sister to their room at the end of the short hall. Kiba huffed, shaking his head as his sister and Nanako disappeared into the room. “I don't know about her, Akamaru. You sure we can trust her?” 

Akamaru licked Kiba's hand and nudged him forward. “I hope you're right, buddy.” 

The room was crowded with three of the Kumo shinobi, his mother, sister, and their ninken. Once Kiba was inside, he was forced to keep himself pressed against the wall, Nanako standing far too close to him, that practiced smirk in place. 

Tsume took in Nanako's appearance. “You're one of his experiments, aren't you?” 

Nanako looked away, shrugging. “In a manner of speaking.” 

Tsume's nostrils flared, sniffing the air. “You reek of death, child.” 

Nanako shifted, eyes darting to the ground and her smile slipping. “I've been there for a long time now.” 

She was silent after that, tapping her finger against her thigh as she leaned back against the wall. Kiba tried to scoot away, but there was no room. He hadn't paid close enough attention to her scent before, but now that he was in a cramped room right next to her, the stale stench of death filled his nose. 

Nanako caught his eye and a chill went down his spine. There was something empty about the look she gave him. Akamaru whined, nudging Kiba's hand. 

“Akamaru likes you,” Tsume noted. “That's impressive, given your circumstances.” 

Nanako smiled. “I've always loved animals, even before... My brother was good with animals, too.” 

“Your brother? Is he here?” 

Nanako shook her head. “No. I'm not sure where he is, but I know he's not here.” 

“And the rest of your family?” 

“Dead.” 

Tsume nodded, sharing a look with Hana. 

The door opened a second later and Karui nearly stumbled over Akamaru on her way inside. “Dammit, couldn't we have done this outside?” 

“No,” Nanako said as Omoi squeezed in after Karui. “I—I don't have much time as it is. I'm—I shouldn't have come, but I had to.” 

“What's wrong? Is someone controlling you?” 

Nanako shook her head. “He doesn't have to. I'm dangerous enough on my own.” 

Tsume narrowed her eyes. “Explain.” 

“My clan's kekkei genkai is dangerous. We absorb natural energy constantly, but it comes with a price. I suppose all kekkei genkai do, though,” she added. “But ours—it's why my brother...” She shook her head. “It's why he brought us back. So that we would watch over his labs. He doesn't need to control us, because he knows we won't go far. We don't want to hurt anyone. If we lose control, if something sets us off...” 

“I see,” Tsume said. “So it was you and your clansmen that were watching us.” 

“Yes,” Nanako said. “We watched you from a safe distance, but eventually some of them had to be locked away. They would have killed you otherwise. My brother—” She broke off, touching the socket where her arm had once been. “My older brother did this to me when he killed us. He was always so kind when he wasn't like that. I know he didn't want to, but that doesn't matter. If we lose control we're a danger to everyone, even those we care about. But I had to come. I had to speak with you. We've been brought back only to act as his watch dogs, but there are worse threats coming.” 

“What are his plans?” 

“I don't know much. He hasn't been back since the last experiment. He took her with him when he left, but I don't think she's still alive.” 

“Who was she?” 

Nanako licked her lips, her eyes shooting around the room and her breath picking up. She clenched her hands and closed her eyes, her mouth moving soundlessly. Kiba read her lips, edging away as she slowly counted down from ten. She let out a slow breath. “I-I never caught her name.” 

“Did you see what she looked like?” 

“I only know that Kabuto seemed to know her.” 

“Kabuto?” 

“Yes, our master. The one who raised us from the dead.” 

The room fell silent, all eyes staring at Nanako. The surprise was short lived for Tsume. 

“I see,” she said. “And you're sure of this?” 

“Absolutely,” Nanako said. “I'd stake my life on it, but—” She gestured to herself, that easy smirk back in place. The amusement didn't reach her eyes. 

“Do you know of his plans? You said worse was yet to come.” 

“I did,” Nanako said. “But all I know is that Kabuto is using Madara. This war, us being brought back, all of it—it's just a game to him. He's having fun, trying to destabilize the world, but for what purpose I can't say. All I know is that he talked a lot about the future, about when Madara's war fails. He mentioned Uchiha Sasuke a few times—he talked a lot about him when he had that woman captured. She seemed to react to the name.” 

“Do you think it's someone from Konoha?” Kiba asked, his throat tight. He thought about Chouji waiting for Ino to come home from a mission that should have been long over; he thought about Hinata who hadn't returned before he'd left. His heart clenched, pounding nervously against his will. 

“It's possible,” Nanako said. “He mentioned Konoha a few times, but he also talked about the other villages. I—I'm sorry.” 

Kiba bit his tongue, willing the anxiety to subside. "You're sure you didn't catch a name?"

Nanako shook her head. “I'm sorry," she breathed, then, "I really should be going. I'm not sure how much longer I can be here before my anger overcomes me. I hope I was able to help you.” 

Tsume nodded. “You've helped a great deal.” 

Nanako inclined her head, then left. They were silent for a long moment, staring at the door. Kiba leaned into the hall to watch Nanako's retreat, but she was already gone. Something in his stomach knotted and he swallowed. 

“Well,” Tsume said, rising to her feet, “I'd call that mission accomplished.” 

Kiba glanced at his mother, but she didn't look happy or triumphant. The news they'd uncovered was worse than any of them had ever thought possible. Kiba didn't know what could be worse than this war, but he was absolutely sure he didn't want to find out. 

***

Izumi stared at the sky, watching whispy clouds roll by and birds flying overhead. Shibuki stood at her side, watching her.

“We don't have much time,” he told her, his words pulling her thoughts out of the clouds. 

She sighed, closing her eyes against the wind. She couldn't feel the gentle touch of the wind on her skin, but her memories had felt more solid in the last week, and if she thought long and hard she could almost pretend. It was not the same, but until she returned to death, it was all she had. 

Shibuki touched her shoulder; she barely felt it. It was as though he were a ghost, trying to draw the attention of the living only to be ignored. She turned to him, staring into his face, into his eyes which were so much more alive than her comrades had been. Her comrades had all but given up, beginning to fade as she had done to the will of their master—no, not _her_ master. She would never call him that again. 

The plan had given them hope, restored some of their strength, and with Kabuto gone once more, the fight against his control was easier. Her comrades' eyes were still dim, but they held a spark within them now. It was enough that she was sure their plan would not fail. 

“Let's go,” she said, looking back at the sky once more before turning away. 

Shibuki led her back down to the village through a hidden passage in the rock-face of the waterfall. He was silent as they returned to the heart of the village where the troops of resurrected soldiers were lined up like so many dominoes waiting to be toppled over. They would be moving out soon, and if Izumi's heart still pumped blood through her body, it would have beat harder with anticipation. She scanned the gathered dead, her eyes falling on her teammate, Kana, whose eyes were as blank as an unused paper. Her words from two nights previous, when Kimimaro and his cohorts had come for them, rang in Izumi's ears. 

“You've betrayed us,” Kana had whispered, and then Kimimaro had slit her throat. He'd ordered Izumi to kill the rest of her remaining comrades, and she had. If she'd still been alive, she would have been sick afterwards. 

“You did what you had to,” Shibuki murmured beside her. “Do not let your guilt get the better of you.” 

“I know,” she said harshly. “I had to kill them for the greater good, right? What's a few more of my comrades dead in the grand scheme of things?” 

Shibuki sighed. “Would you rather we tried staging our coup with Kabuto still here? We are strong, certainly, but do you think we could have lasted against his strength had he known just how much of our will was still our own?” 

Izumi clenched her hands into fists, jaw tight. “It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make it right. I killed them, my own teammates. I killed them in cold blood and nothing you say will change that.” 

“You're right, Izumi. I had only thought to offer you some comfort.” 

Izumi shook her head, lip curling. “There is no comfort to be had in this half-life. I cannot feel the wind, I cannot taste the freshness of water, and even you are a ghost to me. When I spilled their blood, I did not feel it on my hands and when I washed it off the water stung. That is the only thing I feel, the sting of this life, the bitterness of being wrenched from death.” 

Shibuki regarded her for a moment, then pressed on. “Come, we should join the ranks.” 

Izumi watched him go, forcing her hands to relax. She moved into the crowd, making her way towards the comrades she'd been forced to betray. She would not let herself forget it or make excuses, she would not forgive herself; it didn't matter that her hand had been forced.

The guilt kept her grounded, made her sure of herself and her desires. She would need that for their plan to work. 

Kana looked through Izumi as she took up a place next to her, waiting for their orders. That empty gaze worried her; she was almost sure that Kabuto was looking out from Kana's eyes, watching and waiting for her to make her move. If he knew what her plans were, he had not let on. She worried that if he did know he might stop her, but she shook it off. He was not her master, she would not let him stop her. She had her guilt tethering her; she had her hope to make her strong; and she had Shibuki to remind her when she faltered. 

Izumi forced herself to look away from Kana and her blank eyes. Kimimaro had appeared, followed by his lackeys. She followed him intently, keeping her expression neutral. Kimimaro turned, his eyes catching Izumi's. He tilted his head, sizing her up, and then turned away and gave the signal to move out.

Soon, she would have the satisfaction of taking him down, of ruining his and Kabuto's plans to destroy Iwa. It was all just a matter of patience. 

***

The summons had come several hours later than he'd expected it to, but come it did. Kichirou responded promptly, disappearing from his post outside of Lee's window in a flash. After the events of last night, Lee had seemed more subdued, and Kichirou hoped that it meant he would not attempt another escape soon. 

When he arrived in the Kazekage's room, it was to find him standing by the window, blinds drawn and his gaze unyielding. The fading light from the sunset slipped through the slats of the blinds, illuminating the Kazekage's face in the dim room and catching his eyes so that they shone like precious jade. Kichirou bowed. “Kazekage-sama.” 

Gaara's gaze did not waver and he spoke low as he stared at the wooden slats of the blinds, “I have a mission for you—off the books.” 

Kichirou straightened, staring impassively at the Kazezkage despite his surprise and the mask that would have hidden it anyways. He waited for Gaara to continue. The Kazekage was a straightforward, blunt young man and if he wanted something done, he'd say so in the simplest, most direct way possible. He always knew exactly what he wanted to say and the quickest way to say it. He could not ever remember a time when Gaara had hesitated or stumbled over his words, nor could he remember a single instance where he'd waited longer than two minutes to receive the full breakdown of a mission's parameters. As the minutes dragged by in silence, unease settled within him. He'd been given secret missions before, but this was different. Kichirou could see it in the Kazekage's gaze, in the rigid line of his back, and the way he gripped the window sill tight enough that his knuckles had turned white. 

“Kazekage-sama?” 

Gaara blinked as though he'd been lost in thought, turning his intent gaze upon Kichirou. His posture shifted, his shoulders tensing before relaxing carefully. “I want you to prepare to leave tonight. Form a team. Tell no one when you leave. You'll meet with Hatake Kakashi outside the village—there's a path due northeast, you'll find him there.” He paused, turning away so that Kichirou no longer had his profile to read to gauge the Kazekage's thoughts. “Failure is not an option. Your objective will not be easy: you'll go to Kumo, find out what you can about the enemy, and, if possible, rescue Maito Gai.

“The Hokage does not know about this mission,” he added, his words softer. “Do not let her ANBU see you leave. Understood?” 

“Understood, Kazekage-sama.” 

Gaara turned to look at him again, aborting the motion with a hiss and turning back to the closed blinds. “Too much is at stake, and yet—I am being foolish,” the Kazekage murmured, frustration coloring his words. “Maito Gai is most likely dead, but if there is a chance....” 

Kichirou saw a flicker of confusion pass over the Kazekage's face, but it had flitted away so fast he might have imagined it. 

“Kazekage-sama,” he said, his voice gentler than it had ever been while wearing his mask. “If I may speak so boldly, sir.” 

Gaara glanced at him, head tilted in interest. “You may.” 

“You are a fool,” Kichirou said bluntly. “And that is why we follow you. You have never led us astray, Kazekage-sama. Even now, as refugees in another village, we are strong because of you—because of your heart. You have always ruled by following what you know to be right; and sometimes, Kazekage-sama, what is right is foolish. Rock Lee understands that. In the desert, he understood what was in your heart and, perhaps it is presumptuous of me, but I believe it is all right to want to protect someone who has such faith in you; to want to help them and prove to them that they were right. 

“And he is right. You are a good man, a great shinobi, and a benevolent leader. I will gladly accept this mission and every mission you give me, as will my comrades because we have seen your heart, because we know that you are an honorable man.”

Gaara was silent, staring directly into Kichirou's eyes. It felt as though he weren't wearing a mask at all, but he did not blink or waver. Finally, the Kazekage sighed, closing his eyes, his mouth curled in a small smile. “Thank you.” 

“I speak only the truth, Kazekage-sama.” 

Gaara shifted, the tension in his back easing. The intensity of his gaze had lessened, but he looked no less determined. “It is appreciated. Now go. Prepare your team. Only the most trustworthy ANBU. The fewer the better. I want no more than five people on this mission.” 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama. I promise, if Maito Gai is alive, I will bring him back to Konoha.” 

Gaara nodded. “Dismissed.” 

Kichirou hesitated, frowning behind his mask. “Forgive me, but what of Rock Lee? I do not doubt that he will try to escape again, and next time I am not so sure he won't succeed.” 

Gaara hummed. “I will deal with it.” 

“Of course, Kazekage-sama. I should not have doubted.” 

“Go now, Kichirou. Time is running short and you still have a team to put together.” 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama. I will return to you as soon as Fate allows.” 

“See that you do.” 

Kichirou disappeared, hearing the rest of the Kazekage's unspoken words in his mind: “Do not return empty handed, Kichirou. I am counting on you.” 

***

Ishigakure was in ruins and the enemy had taken out more of their surviving comrades, reducing their number to fifty—fifty frightened shinobi against a thousand unfeeling, undead foes, their Kusagakure hitai-ate flashing in the sunlight as they advanced. 

Daisuke felt a pang in his chest, as though his heart were ready to give out. 

“We need to retreat,” Hei said at his side, blood sliding down his chin. Daisuke snapped his gaze back to the advancing army as their comrades backed away. 

“And how do you propose we make a successful retreat?” he asked dryly. 

“Wing it?” Hei offered. 

Daisuke rolled his eyes. “Is that all you've got?” 

Hei hummed. “Sorry, but I'm fresh out of ideas. It's not every day you come up against an army of dead soldiers, is it?” 

Daisuke huffed, glancing back at their troops. “Then I guess we better hope we're faster than them, huh?” 

Hei nodded, his cocky grin slipping from his face. “Yeah.” 

Daisuke lobbed a smoke bomb into the crowd of advancing shinobi, then turned and shouted, “Retreat! Split up! Retreat!” 

Their comrades turned and fled, rushing in every direction. Hei ran alongside Daisuke, heading northward through the trees, making for Earth Country. 

“That—wasn't—exactly—smooth,” Hei said stiltedly as they raced through the forest, branches scratching at their faces. 

“I winged it,” Daisuke replied, breathless. 

Hei laughed, vaulting into the trees, following several of their comrades. Daisuke picked up speed, jumping after Hei.

“Send word to the others if you can find them,” Hei told his comrades. “We're making for Iron, for the land of the samurai. We'll rendezvous there.” 

“Understood.” Their comrades pulled away, dropping to lower branches and veering to the west, following after more of their party to pass along the message. Daisuke glanced to Hei, an eyebrow raised. 

“Iron is our best option now,” Hei explained. “It's either that, or brave the forests of Fire.” 

A shiver went up Daisuke's spine at the thought. “Iron it is, then.” 

They fell silent as they raced through the trees, listening carefully as the sound of pursuit died down behind them, until the only sound in the forest was the wind in the trees. They raced onward, making a direct path for Iron and hopefully safety. 

***

The last boat coasted away from the dock, the sails catching the wind and billowing out. The shinobi on board moved above deck, checking the rigging. Haruna watched her comrades sail away, heading for the safety of the island safe houses in the south. 

Only a handful had stayed behind to help her find the Raikage, but it would be enough. Too many of their number had been injured, and in the last few days of hiding they had lost several of their comrades to their injuries. Haruna would not put shinobi on the front line whose wounds were still fresh from their last battle. 

She turned away from the harbor, taking stock of the ones who'd stayed behind. Five shinobi had volunteered to join her: two Jounin, two ANBU, and one determined Chuunin. They had all made it through the battle with minimal damage, which eased Haruna's concerns only slightly. The Chuunin was still favoring his left leg and one of the Jounin's arm was in a sling, but apart from that they were all relatively in one piece. It was a solid team, a strong team, and they would need that strength if they were to find the Raikage. 

“Do you really think he's alive?” Mikoto asked. 

“I do,” Haruna said softly. “And so do you, otherwise you would not be here.” Haruna looked into the faces of each of her comrades. “You're all here because you believe in him. We cannot give up on him, even if the odds are against him and us.” 

“Where do you want to look? The last anyone saw of him, he'd fallen over the north section of the wall.” 

“We'll start there. The Raikage's attacks would have left noticeable damage where ever he ended up, so there should at least be an easy-to-follow trail. If not, we'll rely on other methods of tracking.” 

“Do you want to risk entering this city?” an ANBU said, nodding in the direction of the port city they had taken their boats from. “We could do with some supplies.” 

Haruna nodded. “We might as well. However, only two of us need to enter. Find what we need, but only the most basic of supplies. Who wants to go?” 

Mikoto raised her hand. “We'll go,” she offered, indicating herself and her partner, Makoto. 

“While you two are gathering supplies, we'll go over our plans. If you can find a map of Lightning while in town that would be helpful.” 

“We'll see what we can do,” Mikoto offered. “Come on, lil' sis.” 

They left their comrades, heading into the city which was just beginning to stir. Haruna hoped enough shops would be open this early; the longer they waited, the harder it would be to find the Raikage. 

“When they return,” she said, “we'll head north-west from here. We're about three days from Kumo, but if we're lucky, we might run into the Raikage's trail along the way—that is, assuming he headed this way.” 

“Do you think he'd head here?” the Chuunin, Hoshi, asked. “He might not have wanted to risk alerting the enemy to the evacuation plan. And if the enemy followed him here—there aren't any ninja in the city to protect the civilians.” 

Haruna shook her head. “I don't think he'd have come here, but if he fell over the north wall, then it's likely he kept moving northward, away from the enemy. We don't know how far beyond Kumo the enemy has taken, but it's likely that the south of Kumo is no longer safe. The Raikage wouldn't go that way, especially if he were seriously injured.” 

“I agree,” one of the ANBU said. “We'll need to be careful once we get close to Kumo, though, assuming we don't pick up his trail before then.” 

“It would be safest to send only one or two within a mile of the village,” the other ANBU said. “Roku and I could scout the area for any signs of the Raikage. We'd be best at being undetected.” 

Haruna nodded. “That seems reasonable. If we end up that close to Kumo, we'll give you only a day to find any signs of him. If you don't return within that time, we'll have to assume the worst.” 

“Understood,” Roku said. 

“What do we do if we don't find any signs of the Raikage?” Hoshi asked, shifting the weight from his bad leg to his good. “I mean, if there's no clues as to where he went or the trail's gone cold...” 

“Have faith, Hoshi,” Haruna said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Don't give up hope yet. We will see this through to the end, no matter what.” 

Hoshi didn't look convinced, but Haruna knew that somewhere in Hoshi's heart he still believed. He was scared, it was only natural to doubt in the face of fear. Haruna had lived too long, spent too many years as a shinboi—more than most—to fear the Raikage's death. If he died another would take his place and life would go on. But she would not give up looking, she would not give up hope, and she would not let fear drive her away from her goals. 

The Raikage was out there somewhere and Haruna was going to find him.

***

It had been a long time since Gai had undergone the slow agony of tortured. Being a Jounin sensei, especially in the early years of his team, meant missions tended to ere on the slightly less dangerous side. There was never a guarantee, but young Genin weren't meant for the sorts of missions that could end with torture, and so their sensei, more often than not, avoided such missions as well. 

Gai couldn't quite recall the last time he'd felt such pain. Lee was strong enough now that even a light training session could be grueling, and Gai often ended up with more bruises than not these days, but that pain was still nothing compared to the searing agony his captors had subjected him to. He'd lost track of the days as he drifted in and out of a pain-filled fog; his mind was hazy, blurred memories of a distant past or an imagined future sometimes bubbled to the surface, distracting him from the torture, but he never really forgot where he was. Pain always grounded him, always made things seem more clear. He was used to pain, he'd trained his body for so many years to endure it that pain had become a reminder that he was alive, that he was strong. It made being tortured a strange experience. It left him acutely aware of everything, every minute detail came into stark focus—sound, light, color, scent, feeling, so much _feeling_. He longed for the chance at sweet oblivion; yearned for a reprieve from the pain that came with no reward; wanted only the chance to be ignorant of the damage that he knew was destroying his body beyond repair. 

He should have died back in the mountains, he should have opened the Eighth Gate, but he hadn't been sure if Kakashi had escaped with his students. If they hadn't made it to safety and Gai died before they did manage a successful retreat, then his sacrifice would have been in vain. He knew now that they had made it, but it was the only reassuring thought he had to keep him going. Day in and day out, new tortures were implemented and always the same, persistent question, “Why were you heading for Kumogakure?” 

That voice hadn't been familiar, but Gai had seen through the mask to a familiar eye. The hyper awareness had been muddled by a Genjutsu and exhaustion, but he knew that eye. He knew it as well as he knew the back of his hand, but it didn't make sense. None of it made any sense at all. 

The dreams always came not long after the pain spiked. He never recalled what was done to him—only sharp, invasive pain, his muscles spasming against searing heat followed immediately by a frigid cold, and then he would be in a field with his students and Kakashi.

And it was no different this time: Kakashi watched him, waiting for him to speak, though what he waited so eagerly for Gai could not say. Lee was showing off a new move as Neji and Tenten watched, humoring him. Gai was aware that it wasn't real and when Kakashi asked, “Why were you in Kumogakure?” Gai said the same thing he always did: “You know why.” 

Kakashi huffed, which was not like him at all. The pain spiked again and the dream blurred, and Kakashi became his captor, the one he knew but who it couldn't possibly be. Then Kakashi's face changed, became cruel and angry as he demanded, “Tell me why you were in Kumogakre!” 

And the dream turned to a nightmare. Lee was screaming, Neji and Tenten were crying out for help, and Kakashi was dead. The pain in Gai's body was dull compared to the pain in his mind. It was hot, sharp, and intense—a thousand times worse than opening the Seventh Gate. Gai's mind was on fire; he had reached his limit. He forgot everything except one thing: the mission that had sent him to Kumogakure. 

The pain stopped abruptly. The nightmare faded into a dream. Kakashi smiled behind his mask at Gai. “Thank you.” 

And then everything went dark. 

***

Kichirou had kept clear of the forest since their return to Konoha. After spending so much time in the forests of Fire, he had come to the conclusion that he vastly preferred the open air of Suna. The trees were too tall and imposing, standing far too close together and hiding too many secrets while their leaves blocked the sunlight. During the day, it was dark and dim in the forests compared to the almost painfully bright landscape of the desert; and at night it was pitch black, the moonlight completely hidden making it the perfect place to hide an army of resurrected shinobi. 

In the desert, there were too few places to hide, but here in the forests, Kichirou felt that every shadow might be a potential threat. 

He could not let it unnerve him. He was an ANBU, the most elite of Suna. He would not be bested by shadows or the whisper of the wind through the leaves, and yet he could not deny his unease. He was not alone in his distaste for the forest, at least. He knew Yana well enough to know that she did not like this place anymore than he did; Sayuu was more difficult to read, but Kichirou had learned in the desert to recognize when she was uncomfortable—her discomfort now was less concerning to him, and by contrast seemed the most mild of everyone's. Even Kakashi had shed his cool, calm demeanor. He'd lifted his hitai-ate, revealing his Sharingan even before Kichirou and his team had arrived. Now, as they trekked through the forest, Kakashi's brow was a permanent crease. 

“We should take to the trees,” Yana said, looking around. “It would be faster. And safer.” 

Kakashi shook his head. “This route is safe, and before we leave I need to speak with someone.” 

Kichirou raised an eyebrow. “We're meeting someone?” 

“Hopefully,” Kakashi said, but offered no further explanation.

Yana's hand moved in the darkness, catching Kichirou's eye. She signed discreetly to him, her hands moving in a way that could almost be considered unintentional in the darkness of the forest. The shapes were loose and to someone who didn't know any better it might have looked like she were simply flexing her hands. Moonlight caught her hands, making it easier to read. 

_Can we trust him?_ she asked.

Kichirou nodded once, but Yana did not appear satisfied. Her hands moved more precisely now and if Kakashi were privy to the conversation behind him, he did not let on. Kichirou didn't doubt that he was aware of it, though. He'd heard the rumors and he'd done his own research on Hatake Kakashi (as well as Hyuuga Neji and Rock Lee) before they'd made their journey to Suna. Even in the midst of war and with alliances set in place—Konoha's and Suna's years older, perhaps—he could not trust that an assassination attempt on the Kazekage was not in the works.

What he'd uncovered about Kakashi had initially made him wary of the man, but after their long mission in Suna and much forced interaction, he had decided to trust Kakashi—at least as much as he could trust any shinobi from another village. Yana knew this, as she and Sayuu had helped him gather the intel on Kakashi and the other Konoha shinobi they'd gone to Suna with, but Yana was more wary of foreigners, more unsure of the alliance than Kichirou, and so Kichirou had to work that much harder to appease her sense of distrust.

Kichirou watched her hands move from the corner of his eye, taking in the gestures and translating them. _How do we know he's not dead? He came back from that mission with one less man, Hyuuga was blind and Rock Lee was unconscious. What if this is a trap?_

ANBU's system of communicating through signed gestures was not so precise, but Yana was mostly deaf and she always inevitably defaulted to sign language whenever she wanted to communicate complex sentences. The only problem was that sign language required more movement and Yana often ended up making small sounds without meaning to. Kichirou glanced to Kakashi, but his eyes were still determinedly forward.

Kichirou thought for a moment, holding his hand up casually, index finger crooked in the sign for 'thinking'. He and Yana had been friends before they'd joined the academy, back when she had been determined to prove that her deafness was not a hindrance, that she could be just as good if not better than the other shinobi in Suna. Their longtime friendship was the only reason he knew he could calm her suspicions.

He sighed, moving one hand, watching Kakashi carefully.

 _The Kazekage trusted him enough to allow him to accompany us,_ he finally said.

Yana hesitated. Before she could sign anything further, Kakashi stopped abruptly, holding up a hand. Ahead, in the darkness they heard a faint humming sound, followed by the rustle of trees.

“Shino,” Kakashi murmured.

“What are you doing back here?” an unfamiliar voice said, low and flat.

“Officially, I'm still in Konoha.”

“I see.” Silence followed, filled by that gentle humming that came from all around them. Kichirou glanced around, unable to see anything through the thick trees shrouded in darkness. “And unofficially?”

“I'm on a rescue mission. I think we could use your help.”

Kichirou's gaze snapped to Kakashi and he stepped forward. “That's not—"

“We could use your help,” Kakashi said, ignoring Kichirou. “You've found a way to kill a portion of Madara's army. Between your method of killing the resurrected forces and Shikamaru's method of destroying the ones in black, we might stand a chance. But I can't control your bugs, Shino. If we're going to succeed, we need your help.”

Kichirou shifted, glancing at Yana and Sayuu. Their eyes glinted in the dim light of the moon, watchful and wary. None of them wanted an unfamiliar shinobi on the mission with them, but if Shino had found a way to fight the enemy, they could hardly deny that he would be useful. Kakashi had made the decision without them and, though Kichirou trusted his judgment, he was not pleased.

“You said Shikamaru returned? Was Hinata with him?”

“Yes,” Kakashi said. “Will you help us?”

“I can't abandon my mission. I'm sorry.”

Kakashi sighed. “You haven't heard from Sai, have you?”

“I'm sorry, but no."

“There's no chance I could convince you to come with us?"

"No. I admit that when I was first assigned to the forests—” Shino broke off. The humming around them grew steadily louder to Kichirou's left. All eyes turned, as a black shadow appeared in the clearing. A breeze shifted the leaves and moonlight filtered in, falling on the figure of a shinobi with blank eyes and a kunai in hand.

Shino stepped forward, raising a hand towards the enemy. The trees in the canopy above settled, covering them in darkness once more as the shinobi froze, then crumpled to the floor as a pile of dust.

“You should get going,” Shino murmured. “We've drawn the enemies' attention. If your mission is as important as I think it is, then go. I'll provide you with as much cover as I can.”

Kakashi nodded. “Thank you,” he said, disappearing into the trees. Kichirou nodded to Yana and Sayuu, and they too jumped into the trees. Kichirou paused, glancing back at the pile of dust that had once been the enemy.

“Go,” Shino said. “The others won't wait, and my bugs can provide you with some cover at least until you're out of the forest.”

Kichirou stared back at the clearing where the enemy had once stood. He glanced back at Shino. “If you change your mind, we're heading to Kumo. We really could use your help.”

He jumped into the trees before Shino could answer, enveloped by the thick canopy and a black cloud of bugs that hummed around him as he raced through the tree tops after his team.

***

It took them nine days to reach Kumogakure.

They avoided the common trade routes and took the long way around. They still ended up fighting against an army of undead soldiers on the way, but they did make it to Kumo in one piece, and with the knowledge that the enemy didn't get back up once you'd burned them to a crisp. Kichirou was not particularly skilled at Fire Release, but Kakashi more than made up for that fact with a vicious fervor that cut down the enemy in the blink of an eye.

Kichirou could see the ANBU in him now, and he was relieved that they had Kakashi on their side.

When they finally reached Kumo, exhausted and covered in ash, they found the village in ruins. Kichirou felt a moment's panic as he stared at the village and saw only Suna's wreckage, but he forced down the surge of anxiety before it could grip him. From their vantage point on the highest mountain, where the air was thin and cool, they could see the enemy dotting the walls and mingling about the village's ruined districts. It was just like it had been in Suna, only instead of the severed heads of his people, he saw thick, thorn-covered vines growing up the walls of the village and curling over the battlements.

“We need to find where they keep their prisoners,” Kakashi said, his voice flat. Since the start of the mission, Kakashi had been distant and cold, but the closer they'd gotten to Kumo the more dangerous he'd become. Kichirou had not thought there was anyone else in the world who wanted to see Maito Gai rescued as fiercely as Rock Lee until Kakashi had burned the first wave of attackers in a single blow. He didn't fully understand why Kakashi had risked it all for Maito Gai; though he would have done similarly for Matsuo, the change in Kakashi was tinged with a desperate edge. It reminded him of racing through a secret escape tunnel as it collapsed with Akiko in his arms, bleeding out; of rushing haphazardly across deserts and through thick fields of grass into a forest filled with only more danger as he tried in vain to save the love of his life.

“How are we going to get in there?” Yana asked, pulling Kichirou from his contemplation of Kakashi. Her lisp was more pronounced than it had been now that she'd lost her hearing-aid in their last encounter, and her voice carried more than they could afford once within Kumo.

Kichirou signed as he spoke, “We should stick together. Kakashi's the only one with any skill at Fire Release, so we can't risk separating.”

“I could go in first,” Kakashi intoned. “Scope it out, find a way in for the three of you.”

“No,” Kichirou said firmly. Kakashi had clearly been an excellent ANBU, but as detached and deadly as he'd become over the last nine days, Kichirou could still see a flicker of emotion in Kakashi's gaze. If he went in alone, he would lose himself to his feelings and then they would absolutely fail.

“We need to find a way in together,” Kichirou said. “Once we're inside, we'll make for the Raikage's offices. There's probably a blue print of the village somewhere in there. We just need a way in.” 

Yana touched the ground, closing her eyes. “There's plenty of metal in the rocks. I could cause a rock slide. It might distract them.” 

“How far can you extend your reach?”

Yana glanced to Kichirou, raising an eyebrow. He quickly signed Kakashi's question. “Far,” Yana said, signing exaggeratedly. “Very far.”

Kakashi nodded. “That's a good plan,” he said, while Kichirou translated.

Yana grinned cheekily. “Just point to where you want the chaos,” she said, flexing her fingers. Kakashi scanned the mountain range around them, then pointed.

“Due southeast, about a mile and a half from us.” Kichirou signed the directions and Yana nodded, kneeling on the hard stone and laying her hands flat.

There was a low rumbling beneath their feet, then everything around them went still. A ripple passed through the mountains, then a minute later, on the far side of Kumogakure and well away from their location, the mountain range began to crumble. Large rocks fell, rolling towards the village as smaller stones rained down upon it. Below, the enemy shinobi began to move.

“That should at least distract them for a while,” Yana said, standing up. “Shall we?”

The four made their way down the mountains, moving swiftly but carefully over the unfamiliar terrain. As they neared the village walls, they stopped, their eyes trained above for any signs of a watchful guard. The shinobi on the battlements ran past, making their way towards the destruction, completely oblivious to the four below.

“Yana,” Kichirou said, waving a hand to draw her attention. “Can you make a path for us?”

“Ask and you shall receive,” she chimed. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the earth around them. She narrowed her eyes as her hands flew, forming seals in quick succession. As she formed the last seal, she smashed her fists into the earth, shaking the bedrock. Cracks spread around her feet, and a thin chasm raced towards the wall, bits of raw metal springing from the earth and bouncing around chaotically. Beneath them, the ground trembled and split wider, a gaping hole opening at Yana's feet. Kichirou looked anxiously to the wall, but it was empty of enemy shinobi.

The trembling subsided and Yana cracked her knuckles. “How's that?”

“Good. Let's go."

Kakashi was the first one in the hole, crawling on all fours through the narrow space, Yana right behind him. Sayuu followed after her and Kichirou brought up the rear. There was just enough room for Kichirou to lift himself up onto his elbows, but he couldn't manage any more height without scraping his back against rock and metal. It was slow going, but it was safer than scaling the wall or trying to break through it to the other side. Twenty-five minutes later, Kakashi stopped just before a beam of sunlight filtering through a hole at the end of Yana's quickly constructed crawlspace.

He heard muffled shuffling as Kakashi checked if the coast was clear.

“It's clear,” Kakashi called down. “Let's move.”

One by one, they crawled from the tunnel, each melting into the shadow of a building as they waited for the next person to exit. Kichirou paused before exiting, scanning the area in seconds before choosing a safe place to take cover. Once he had settled, he took stock of his surroundings. They had exited in a ruined district of Kumo, just behind a building that had once been a home or business. Kichirou couldn't tell, but he could see dried blood splattered on rocks and beams, covered partially by more of the same vines that had taken over the wall of the village.

"The Raikage's offices are at the center—looks to be a good 3,000 meters from here. We'll need to be careful," Kakashi murmured. Kichirou made sure to sign along for Yana.

"Let's take it slow. We can't afford to make another tunnel now that we're in the village. Stick to the shadows for now." 

"We better hurry," Sayuu muttered. "Looks like the sun's moving higher."

"Then let's go," Kakashi said without preamble, and he took off, disappearing like a ghost in the night.

They followed after him, moving silently through the destruction towards the center of the village. They had to hide several times to avoid enemy shinobi, but it seemed that their diversion had worked all too well. Most of the army had gone to see what the commotion was about, leaving few obstacles in their way as they made for the Raikage's offices. Kakashi kept a good deal ahead, stopping and signaling to them when they needed to hide, but otherwise he seemed to ignore them. He was as single-minded in his determination to find Gai as Lee had been to escape Konoha. Kichirou wondered if Kakashi had plans to do any reconnaissance at all. The Kazekage hadn't sent them solely on a rescue mission, but Kakashi was acting as though he had. Then again, Kakashi wasn't under Gaara's command; even if he'd followed the order and abandoned his post, defied his Hokage, he did not need to follow Gaara of the Desert anymore than it served his own purposes. But Kichirou and his Suna comrades had a goal, beyond Maito Gai: they needed to know the enemies plans and exactly how much the enemy knew. If Kakashi could not be counted on to fulfill that portion of the mission, then the burden fell to Suna alone.

The Raikage's offices were as defaced as the Kazekage's had been when Kichirou had infiltrated Suna with Matsuo and Akiko. The memories had been fighting to overtake him since he'd first stood atop the mountains surrounding Kumo and as he drew closer to the Raikage's offices he felt a wave of panic grip him. He stumbled, stopping to lean against a wall, breathing hard. The sound of Akiko screaming filled his head and his vision tunneled. He had to keep moving, he needed to stay in the moment: he wasn't in Suna, Akiko was already dead. 

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, but Yana deflected his blade before he could bring it down. She gripped his shoulder, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Stay here.”

Kichirou took in a deep breath, counting down. When he reached zero, he nodded. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it. Let's just hurry. Kakashi and Sayuu are already inside.”

Kichirou followed quickly, slipping into the building through the broken window. Kakashi was already racing up the stairs when Kichirou entered.

“I'll look down here,” Sayuu offered.

“Be careful,” Kichirou warned.

“I've been doing this a long time,” Sayuu said. “I know what I'm doing.”

Kichirou didn't argue, following after Yana as she followed after Kakashi.

The Raikage's offices were filled with a heavy, oppressive silence that made his skin crawl. The building felt haunted, every corridor felt as though some presence still lingered with the walls, and though it was still standing, parts of it had been burned and other parts had caved in, making it a dangerous place. There was no telling if the village's layout was still in tact, or if they were even in the right place. At the top of the first landing, Yana stopped before moving to search the rooms and cabinets there. Kichirou pressed on, making his way to the next floor and then the next until he found Kakashi rumaging through the Raikage's office.

“You know that could be considered treason,” Kichirou murmured from the door. Kakashi didn't look up from his task. “Why did you agree to this mission?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

Kakashi snorted. “Why did the Kazekage see fit to order this mission? We all have our reasons, even if they aren't clear.” 

Kichirou sighed. “Just don't let your feelings get in the way of the objective.”

Kakashi narrowed his eyes, but still refused to look up from his task. “I know what the objective is.” 

“Do you?”

“Absolutely,” Kakashi said. “I'm a shinobi, and I've been one a fair few years longer than you. I'd bet I was in ANBU longer than you've been too.”

Kichirou couldn't argue with that. He shrugged. “It's just a bit of friendly advice, Kakashi. From one ANBU to another, no matter how much you train, you can never turn your heart to stone.”

Kakashi didn't answer. Kichirou left, returning to the floor below to search out the blue prints. It took them twenty tense minutes to find anything. Yana found the blue prints for the village in a filing cabinet on the second floor in a backroom and she quickly grabbed the others, dragging them into the windowless room she'd found them in. The room was mostly untouched, but the lights flickered nearing the end of their life.

The four poured over the plan of the village, searching out anything that might lead them to Gai.

“Here,” Kakashi said, jabbing a spot on the map. A large rectangle had been drawn near the back of the northeast wall, at least two miles from where they were. They could make it there in under twenty minutes if they went by rooftop, but that wasn't an option and the sun had finally reached its highest point, diminishing the shadows to thin slivers.

“How do you suggest we get there?” Sayuu asked.

Kakashi shook his head. “We'll need to wait til nightfall. By now Yana's diversion will have been dealt with, and another one would be too suspicious. We can rest here—eat, sleep, plan—and in a few hours it will be dark enough that we can risk it.”

“My distraction might still be keeping them busy," Yana suggested as Kichirou finished translating for her. "But if we wait, then there won't be anything to keep them occupied."

Kakashi nodded. “No,” he agreed, mimicking the sign he'd seen Kichirou use earlier. “But it's a risk we'll have to take. Are we agreed?”

“It's our best option,” Kichirou said. “We're agreed. Come nightfall, we'll rescue Maito Gai."

***

Kumo was silent as they slipped from the Raikage's offices out into the night, melting into shadows with the ease of long time practice. The dead might have taken the village, but the living were the ghosts that had slipped in past their guard now. Kichiro and his team dissolved like shades, reappearing feet away in the dim light of the crescent moon only briefly before pulling another shadow around them like a cloak.

The four shinobi raced past groups of dead Kumo ninja, quieter than the wind.

It took them only fifteen minutes to reach the prison compound and mere seconds to break in. Their time in the Raikage's office had been more than useful: they had found the blue prints for the prison and a map of the evacuation tunnels built beneath the Raikage's office. It was their best bet at a quick escape and Yana had already laid the trap that would ensure no one would follow.

It was now only a matter of retrieving Gai, assuming he was still alive. The final part of their mission would not be so easy, but Kichirou would not allow this chance to pass them by and he would not fail the Kazekage. If there was anyone in Kumo within Madara's inner circle, anyone who might know his plans then they had to find them. He and Yana had agreed the best course of action would be for Kakashi and Sayuu to leave with Gai once they found him, while they went on ahead to uncover what they could. Whether they could obtain information by stealth or by force had yet to be seen, but as long as Kakashi and Sayuu made it out of Kumo with Gai, Kichirou and Yana could take the risk.

In the grand scheme of things, the possibility of death did not scare Kichirou.

They raced down corridors, sticking close to the walls of the dimly lit prison. There was nothing on the first level and so they moved downward, making for the lower levels. zyhe second floor had nothing to offer nor did the third. They moved ever down, spiraling towards the unknown. If they were ambushed now, there was little hope for survival.

An hour later, they stopped, listening to the steady _drip drip drip_ of water from a leaking pipe and the sounds of muffled voices. When they peered into the cells, they found badly beaten shinobi. There was one cell that was empty, the door open wide. Kakashi peered inside, eyes narrowed as he took in the empty room. Blood had dried in flecks on the floor, but that was the only sign that the room might be in use.

“We should keep moving,” Sayuu said, glancing up and down the corridor. “If he's not here—”

Shuffling from far down the hall silenced her. All four tensed, turning as voices drifted towards them, low and brittle. 

“Poor bastard,” one voice muttered.

“I'd kill him if I could,” another said.

“Yeah,” the first said. A shadow fell on the far wall at the end of the hall, and the four sprang to action, moving into the room and hiding within the shadows. Kakashi jumped into the corner where the ceiling and wall met, just above the door; Kichirou melted into the shadow of the open door; Yana slipped beneath the dilapidated bed; and Sayuu wrapped the shadows around her in the far corner of the room away from the dim light filtering in from the corridor.

They waited, invisible, tense, and holding their breath.

The voices drew closer, shuffling feet drawing nearer.

“—won't last much longer though.” 

“He's held out longer than I thought he would.” 

“Wish he hadn't.”

There was silence as the two shuffled into the cell.

“He's a heavy motherfucker."

“He's all muscle. You'd be heavy too if you'd ever lifted anything besides skirts.”

“Hey!” 

They dropped the limp body of Maito Gai on the bed, the springs creaking loudly.

“Don't complain. You got more action than I ever did.”

“Or ever will,” the other said, snorting.

“Don't push it. Just cause we gotta listen to that creepy ass snake, doesn't mean I can't still kick your ass.”

They left the room, bickering as they went and slamming the door behind them. The heavy lock clicked in place, echoing around the cell.

“Well,” Sayuu said. “That worked out better than expected.”

Kakashi stepped out of the shadows and approached the unconscious form of his friend, more hesitant than Kichirou had expected him to be. He reached out a hand, gently touching Gai's shoulder but quickly pulled it back as though he'd been burned, a low, distressed sound coming from him.

“What is it?” Kichirou asked, stepping from the shadows.

Kakashi didn't say anything, pulling from his pack a medical kit and setting to work. It was only the most basic of supplies, not nearly enough to help Gai in the long run. Judging from the conversation they'd overheard and Gai's current state, he was lucky to be alive. Yana watched Kakashi work over his shoulder, while Sayuu and Kichirou stood by the door, listening for any sounds of returning guards.

“How much longer?” Kichirou asked, some twenty minutes later.

“Almost,” Kakashi snapped, his voice edged with worry.

“I don't mean to rush you, but we don't know if those guards will come back.”

“I know,” Kakashi said softly, tossing aside a used cloth covered in blood. He wrapped a final bandage around Gai's bleeding arm, then stood, lifting Gai carefully into a sitting position. Yana quickly helped Kakashi pick Gai up, holding his weight between them. “His shoulder is badly injured. We won't be able to travel with him like this.”

“What do you propose?”

Kakashi paused for a moment, then answered, his voice heavy. “I'll carry him out on my back. Just help me get him up.”

Kichirou quickly assisted, Yana following suit once she'd realized what they were doing.

“You two should go. Yana and I will see if we can find anything out about the enemy. We'll rendezvous tomorrow if we make it out.”

“If you don't arrive by nightfall, we'll leave you behind,” Kakashi said. “Gai won't last long out here.”

“Understood. Yana, how's the door? Can you get us out?"

Yana snorted. “Piece of cake.”

She stepped forward, forming seals rapid fire and then with what appeared to be a huge effort, yanked her hands towards herself. The metal door buckled, crunching inward on itself, coming right off its hinges. With another pull, the door flew towards Yana, who quickly extended her hands, catching it and tossing it in an arch over her head. It landed with a loud crash atop the bed, breaking it.

Kakashi closed his eyes, sighing heavily. “You couldn't have been quieter?”

Yana, without her hearing aid, missed the comment. “Are we splitting up now?”

Kichirou nodded, glancing at Kakashi. “You two be safe. Remember, if anyone follows you, don't hesitate to destroy the evac tunnels.”

“I won't,” Kakashi said, his voice flat. He stepped into the hall, looking left and right, then taking off the way they'd come.

“Watch his back,” Kichirou told Sayuu. She nodded, then followed after Kakashi.

“Guess it's just you and me, huh?” Yana said, peering down the corridor after their comrades.

Kichirou nodded, signing to her, _You don't need to talk now._

Yana nodded as she turned, heading in the opposite direction. Kichirou went after her, sticking close to the wall as he went. Yana stopped at the bend, signaling for Kichirou to wait as she peered around the corner. After a moment, she dropped her hand, continuing on.

They moved in silence, stopping at every turn and pausing at the shadows that jumped along the wall in the dim light. The silence was only interrupted by the intermittent sounds of imprisoned Kumo shinobi groaning in pain, perhaps sensing the presence of the living. Though Kichirou wanted desperately to help, he quashed the feeling down. They had their orders; the mission was precise: uncover what they could, save Maito Gai if possible. That was it. The Kumo shinobi's groans faded into the background of Kichirou's mind, until it was just white noise that would haunt him in his sleep later when his subconscious took over and the guilt came rushing back.

For now, he kept the focus that all ANBU had. He was his mission, he was his Kazekage's goals and desires, he was an extension of Suna—that was all.

A door stood open at the end of the hall. They passed through into shadow, racing down a flight of stairs and coming to an abrupt stop on the threshold of another long corridor. It was brightly lit—blinding after the dimness of the floors above—with no shadows or alcoves to hide within. It was only one long stretch of blindingly bright hallway with a door ajar at the end. From within, shadows moved and voices drifted.

Kichirou and Yana shared a look.

_What do you think?_

_I think this is our only chance,_ Yana signed.

Kichirou nodded. _Stay here. If things go bad—_

 _No._ Yana signed the word abruptly, the blank expression on her face flickering. _Don't you dare sideline me._

_If something happens—_

_Then we die together. I won't be sidelined. Even if I can't hear, I can read lips better than you can._

Kichirou forced down a sigh. _All right,_ he signed reluctantly.

Yana narrowed her eyes, but didn't comment. She stepped into the hall, walking with the purpose of someone who belonged there. Kichirou followed after her, keeping his footsteps light. They stopped before the door, watching it warily, waiting for someone on the other side to open it wide. Yana pressed herself against one side of the wall, peering past the slightly open door.

_I see someone. In a black and red cloak._

Kichirou's heart stuttered before he could clamp down on the reaction. He closed his eyes, pressing himself against the other wall, listening carefully.

“—derstand now,” an unfamiliar voice said. “If Kabuto hadn't ignored my last message—but no matter. I will find out if he was telling the truth. I'll find the island and the Bijuu will be mine. Where did you say the island was when you found it, Zetsu?"

"May we be dismissed?” one of the voices from earlier snapped.

The room went silent and tension eased into Kichirou's shoulders. He waved his hand discreetly, grabbing Yana's attention. _Can you see him?_

Yana's eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring. _He's wearing a mask._

Kichirou mentally cursed. _Can you see anyone else?_

 _Yes. That man Kakashi saw before—the one with the white and black body. He's—_ Her eyes went wide and her signing became more agitated as she said, _We need to leave. We need to leave now._

“Why would we dismiss you?” a second voice said. “If we did that, who would greet our guests?”

Kichirou and Yana fled as the door opened. Footsteps followed behind them, abruptly stopping and picking up speed every other second, the two from earlier cursing and shouting. “Run, you fools! Go!"

Yana was up the stairs first, stopping and dragging Kichirou through the doorway bodily. She flung him up the stairs with such force he nearly flew, before turning and slamming the door with a resounding clang. She worked her hands into seals in a blur then clasped them together and slammed her fists into the metal, sending a ripple through it. The door's seams melted into the wall, becoming one.

On the other side, a loud bang echoed as someone slammed into the door. Kichirou grabbed Yana, yanking her up the stairs. They raced back onto the floor where the prisoners were kept and, before Kichirou could stop her, Yana's hands had blurred together and she was slamming her fist into the closed door, fusing it to the wall. As they raced down the hall, Yana formed more seals, pulling her hands towards herself as they passed the cells of the Kumo shinobi still alive. The doors swung up, some flying off their hinges and flying into the wall opposite.

They didn't wait to see if the Kumo shinobi followed as they rounded the corner, heading towards the next flight of stairs.

As they reached the next landing, the earth shook violently, sending them stumbling.

 _What was that?_ Kichirou asked, recovering quickly and continuing onward.

 _The Raikage's tower,_ Yana signed. _They've escaped, Kakashi and Sayuu are safe. But the tower is gone._

_Do you think we can make it across the village?_

_We have to,_ Yana signed as they burst through the entrance to the prison compound, racing headfirst into a hoard of undead shinobi. They ducked attacks, dodged weapons, and slammed themselves bodily into their opponents, pushing through the line. There was another quake as, in the distance, the Raikage's offices began to crumble inwards. The final crash sent many of the enemy to their knees, and Kichirou and Yana jumped into the air, taking to the rooftops.

“After them!” a familiar voice called. It was the one who'd first spotted them in the basement of the prison. He appeared from the ground, pulling himself through the earth. He was encased in a plant, but Kichirou could see his eyes, even in the darkness, and they sent a chill through him.

Yana leapt to the next building, but as she did a massive vine erupted from the earth, catching her in midair. Kichirou had little time to react, but he managed to land on the vine, sticking to it with chakra and racing to the top. Yana stabbed a kunai into the vine's thick trunk, but the plant held on. Kichirou pulled his own kunai out, hacking at the plant with Yana. Behind him, a shadow passed and he turned, weapon drawn.

The man before him, shrouded in the mouth of a carnivorous plant, smiled. “Well, well, looks like I've caught a couple of flies buzzing around. Have you been eavesdropping? We can't have that, can we?”

Kichirou's eyes widened as the man moved towards them, carried by another vine. Yana ignored him, still hacking at the vine around her.

“Kichirou!” she snapped, bringing him back to himself, forcing him to react. He jumped forward, meeting his opponent in midair, blade glinting in the light. He sliced through tendrils that rose to meet his blows, he dodged a spiked vine, using it to vault over and towards his enemy. He landed a glancing blow, but the man was already floating away, pulled by the vine.

He laughed, watching them. “Do you think you'll escape? This village is ours. Your allies obey us now.”

Yana let out a loud cry before she went tumbling from the vine. “Kichirou! Let's move!”

He didn't waste another moment, turning and racing after her, towards the crawlspace they'd first come through. More vines burst from buildings, trying to grab at them as they passed. A flower exploded from one of the vines, spraying fumes into the air that disintegrated the roof before it. Yana jumped to the ground, narrowly avoiding being hit. Kichirou passed over head, flipping just above the fume's reach. The enemy raced after them, a hoard of undead shinobi and a man who's reach stretched through the earth. With their odds stacked against them Kichirou's heart raced, adrenaline coursing through him, pushing him to move faster. It was just like his mission to Suna, just like Akiko. He stumbled as the memory of her, covered in blood, flashed across his mind.

“We're going to make it,” Yana snapped at his side, her voice steady and determined as she dragged him to his feet again. “We have to. We have to get out alive.”

Kichirou didn't know if he believed they would make it, but he knew that if they didn't the shinobi world would fall. Their mission had been a complete and utter success: Maito Gai had been saved and they'd learned exactly what knowledge the enemy had. Even if they'd been discovered, there was no denying the success of the mission—now they only needed to escape and reach Konoha with the news that the enemy had discovered the hiding place of the Bijuu. They had run out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is my personal favorite and I am so excited for it! However, just a head's up, after that chapter is posted I'm going to go on a brief hiatus (which like probably isn't saying much since I haven't been posting on a consistent schedule). The hiatus is basically just to get everything edited--earlier chapters and later chapters, so that I can get onto a bi-weekly schedule. One the next chapter is up there will only be five left, and I'd really love to get through those quickly so I can start focusing on the sequel to this fic.


	14. A Beast's Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heart is a wild beast. Sometimes it leads us astray, sometimes it brings us closer to our destiny, and sometimes it breaks. The decisions of the heart define us, shape us, lead us down paths we don't always realise are there. Shinobi should not be led by their hearts, but should instead be led by duty and honor. A shinobi is merely the will of the Kage who leads them, merely an extension of their village. All matters of the heart come second for shinobi, but there are always those who defy the odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicating this chapter to all the Gaara in my life: [OrionsBeltBuckle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OrionsBeltBuckle/pseuds/OrionsBeltBuckle), [Galadraen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadraen/works), Mallory, and Lindsey. I love Gaara to pieces, and I love all four of these people so much. 
> 
> This is my favourite chapter of this fic--it's honestly the _reason_ this fic is what it is. I cannot begin to express what getting to this chapter means to me, I'm emotional just thinking about it; about this journey that has taken me seven years, and still isn't over; about the late nights and all the editing and all the worrying that it wouldn't be Perfect(™); all the waiting for kudos and comments, and all the worrying that no one was ever going to like it. And now I'm here, posting my favourite chapter of this fic--this fic that has been nothing short of a labor of love. And now this fic is only five chapters away from completion... and then I get to start on the next journey with the sequel, Honor Bound (which is currently in progress). But for now, I'm going to take a brief hiatus from Alliance to finish editing the full story--in some ways I'm just trying to stretch out the inevitable, but mostly I just really want this story to be as flawless as possible. So from now until October, there won't be any new updates, but I will be working on other fics in the meantime. [Find Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11062566/chapters/24668160) will be updated bi-weekly (for those interested in a GaaLee HS AU). I have some smaller things planned, some Harry/Draco things planned, plus the piece I'm working on for the [GaaLee Summertime of Love Fest](http://puregaalee.tumblr.com/post/160936863785/gaalee-summer-fest-the-summertime-of-love)! Anyway, without further ado...

Before they reached the gates of Konoha the smell of the village filled Kiba's nose, a welcome reprieve from the overwhelming stench of death throughout the forest. Relief washed over him as they rounded a thick outcropping of trees and the village gates appeared in the distance, closed but welcoming in Kiba's mind. He almost cried at the sight. Akamaru yipped happily, racing forward. 

“Kiba,” Tsume warned. “Control him.” 

He straightened, putting his fingers to his mouth and whistling. “Akamaru!” 

Akamaru turned back, bounding towards Kiba with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He barked happily, running in circles around him. “Calm down, buddy! We're still not home yet! You trying to alert the enemy or something?” 

Akamaru tilted his head, then let out another excited bark before racing off, making a beeline for the gates. Kiba shook his head. “Mom—”

Tsume rolled her eyes. “Just go,” she snapped. “But I'm not protecting you if you get attacked.” 

Kiba laughed, taking off after Akamaru. “Don't worry! I can handle them!” he called back, his heart racing as he chased after Akamaru, running towards home. Wind blew in his face, warm and fresh, familiar scents filling his nose and chasing away the smell of death. He jumped over a log, landing on Akamaru's back. “Almost home,” he whispered and Akamaru took off. 

They reached the gates ten minutes before his mother and sister and their ninken, but the shinobi on duty refused to let him in until the entire party had arrived, and then he insisted on a test to prove that Kiba and his family weren't dead ninja trying to infiltrate the village. 

Tsume narrowed her eyes. “Do I look dead to you?” she snapped, baring her teeth. 

He straightened, his gaze wavering. “No, ma'am, but according to reports neither do the enemy. We have to take every precaution.” 

Tsume huffed, nostrils flaring. “Fine then, get on with it so we can get inside.” 

The guard rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched as if in pain as he said, heavily, “It's actually more of a...physical. We just need to check your pulse.” 

Tsume, eyes narrowed, held out her hand, wrist up. “One of us should be enough proof.” 

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, placing two fingers against her pulse point. He waited a beat, then nodded. Tsume dropped her hand. “Good, let's get inside kids.” 

The guard signaled for the gates to be opened before disappearing to his post once more. Akamaru didn't waste any time, bounding back and forth before the gate and then zipping through the instant it was open wide enough for him to fit inside. He barked loudly, announcing their return to the entire village. 

“We need to report to the Hokage first,” Tsume reminded Kiba. “Don't go running off just yet.” 

Kiba's shoulders slumped. “Yeah, okay. I'll go grab him.” 

“Be quick about it,” Tsume ordered, heading towards Hokage tower, Hana following behind her. 

Kiba ran down the street, chasing after Akamaru who was accosting everyone he met. He sniffed everything and everyone he came into contact with vigorously, licked quite a few people, and then stopped to relieve himself on the side of a building. The owner of the shop came running outside, waving a broom in the air as she chased after Akamaru before Kiba could intervene. 

Behind him, a familiar laugh tinkled like bells, sending pleasant tingles down his spine. He turned around, grinning broadly. “Hinata!” 

“Hello, Kiba-kun,” she said, her voice more steady than he remembered. “I'm glad to see you've returned safely.” 

His smile broadened. “Me too! I mean about you. When did you get back?” 

“About two weeks ago,” she said after a thoughtful pause. “I was sad to come home to find that you and Shino were both gone.” 

Kiba threw an arm around her neck, pulling her along with him after Akamaru. “Aww, I missed ya too! And Shino's probably fine. I bet those dead guys are too creeped out by his bugs to even attack him!” 

Hinata bit her lip, looking much more like the shy young woman he remembered. “I suppose.” 

“Trust me, Shino's fine! He's probably making friends with more bugs as we speak.” 

Hinata giggled. Not far off, Akamaru stopped, his ears twitching up at the sound of Hinata's laughter. He turned, let out the loudest bark yet, and came barreling towards them, jumping into the air and landing in front of them, tail waging so hard it shook his whole backside. He didn't miss a beat and, before Kiba could stop him, Akamaru had jumped up on his hind legs, going straight for Hinata's face to lick her soundly in greeting. She laughed louder, shoving him playfully away and petting his head. “It's good to see you, too” 

Kiba watched her fondly as Akamaru flopped onto his back, inviting her to rub his belly. Hinata smile, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. She leaned forward to oblige, giving him a good solid belly rub. As she showered Akamaru with affection, her hair blocked out the sun and a shadow fell over her face, bringing the bags under her eyes into sharp focus.

“We should catch up later on,” Kiba said, casually, leaning over to look her in the eye. “We gotta go to Hokage tower now or else mom's gonna have my head and his hide, but are you free later on?” 

Hinata nodded, her smile broadening. “Do you want to get dinner afterwards?” 

“Yeah! That'd be great! I haven't had anything decent to eat in ages!” 

“Then I'll see you both tonight.” 

“You got it! Come on, Akamaru.” Kiba nudged Akamaru gently with his foot, forcing his dog to roll over. Akamaru whined at the lack of attention, but finally got up, shaking dirt off his coat and sending dust into the air. “Man, don't do that. You'll make Hinata sneeze!” 

Hinata giggled again, turning away from them and tossing over her shoulder, “I'll see you both tonight, Kiba-kun.” 

“Yeah,” he said, waving after her. Akamaru nudged him, yipping playfully and Kiba rolled his eyes. “Don't you start,” he muttered, pushing his dog as he distractedly watched Hinata disappear into the crowd. “Let's go. We got a long, boring meeting with the Hokage to get over with.” 

***

Tenten had fallen asleep, curled up in a chair between her teammates' beds. She was all that kept them together now in the wake of Lee's grief and anger. Neji missed her face, missed seeing her smile. She'd only cried since their return, or else she was trying to mediate her two teammates—she was the only one capable of it now that Gai was gone. Tenten had always been good at getting them to reconcile, but when she couldn't—which was usually when Lee was being too stubborn for his own good—Gai would give them a rousing speech about friendship and comradery. Whatever had Lee so upset would be forgotten in the midst of Gai's speech. It was hard for Neji to accept that Gai would not be giving them his usual speech on the beauty of friendship and the value of forgiveness now. 

He'd heard the speech so many times over the years that he had it memorized, barring any of Gai's usual improvisations. It cut him deeply to remember those words, knowing that no matter what any of them said, Lee would not hear it. He was lost to his grief, too angry and too deeply hurt to open up to any of them. Lee's anger was an effective mask for his pain, but it would not last forever. Neji worried what would happen when his mask finally fell away.

Tenten sighed in her sleep, shifting uneasily. Neji turned his head towards her, reaching a hand out, careful not to accidentally hit Tenten. His eyes still hurt and his vision was still dim when he took off his bandages, so he searched her out by sense alone. Her hand came up to meet his, entwining their fingers. 

“You're awake,” he whispered. 

“Yeah,” Tenten said softly. “Chairs aren't exactly the height of luxury.” 

Neji hesitated. “Is Lee awake?” 

“Who knows,” Tenten said, shifting. “He's gotten so good at ignoring us, it's hard to say.” 

Neji snorted. “He shouldn't be taking this out on you.” 

“Or you,” Tenten said, sternly. “None of this was your fault.” 

Neji shrugged. “He needs time. He's grieving.”

“And you're not? Honestly, if Lee thinks he's the only one hurt by this then he's less thoughtful than I always thought.” 

“Tenten,” Neji said, squeezing her hand. “Don't. You know that's not true.” 

Tenten huffed. “It doesn't matter. He's your best friend and—you need each other right now. He doesn't need to do this alone.” 

Neji sighed. “Just give him time,” he said. 

There was a flop, then the sound of rustling clothes and the creek of wood as Tenten shifted in her seat. “These chairs are awful.” 

“You don't have to sleep in the chair, Tenten.” 

She scoffed, and Neji could imagine she was rolling her eyes. “Yeah, like I'm gonna leave with the two of you like this. I'd probably come back to find the hospital in ruins while the two of you fought it out.”

Neji shook his head. “I meant you could share my bed.” 

There was a long stretch of silence filled only with a soft, “Oh.” 

Neji waited for Tenten to climb into bed with him, but she didn't move. Her hand gripped his a bit tighter though. “Are you sure? What if—what if Lee wakes up?” 

“He was going to find out sooner or later—although, it's Lee. He'd probably just assume you forced me to share so you wouldn't have to sleep in a chair.” 

Tenten let out a breathy sound, almost like a laugh. “Yeah,” she said softly. “He would think that.” 

Neji tugged on her hand, gently pulling her from her chair. “Come on.” 

Tenten climbed into his bed, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and burrowing as close to him as possible. She sighed. “This is better.” 

Neji snorted. “You should have just said something sooner.” 

Tenten was silent, tracing her fingers against his chest. She sighed. “I just...figured you wouldn't want to. This isn't exactly private, so if someone walked in—”

“I'm not ashamed of this,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “I never was.” 

Tenten's hand stilled and he felt her swallow against him. “Okay.” 

Neji frowned. “Did you really think—why would you think that?” 

“I don't know,” she snapped, turning onto her back. “Maybe because we've been keeping this a secret for over a year? I mean, what else was I supposed to think?”

“I just,” Neji started, then stopped. Tenten was right; he'd been unfair to her. They'd danced around their feelings for years, then finally it had all come tumbling out and what had he done? He'd asked for secrecy, even from their best friend and sensei. Neji had no right to be hurt by this. “I'm sorry.” 

Tenten sniffed, turning back into him. “Shut up. I don't want to talk about it.” 

Neji pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing her in. He had missed her, he'd missed her more than he'd ever thought he would when they'd been away—and they just kept going away. The war was determined to separate them, to keep them from one another. All the teams, it seemed, were falling apart. It had started with Team Seven when Sasuke had defected, and now it was like a contagious disease that had laid dormant for years. One by one, each of their teams was dissolving in the wake of war. 

“Tenten,” he whispered into the silence. She sighed, pressing her face against his neck and murmuring sleepily. “You can't be asleep already.” 

“No,” she grumbled, “but I was about to be.”

“I'm sorry, I just—nevermind. Go back to sleep.” 

Tenten sat up, leaning over him, her face close enough to his that he could feel her breath ghosting his lips. “Oh, no. Not gonna happen. You woke me up, so what is it?” 

Neji hesitated, waited just another handful of seconds longer to steel himself.

“I love you.” 

Tenten didn't speak, and Neji regretted saying it now when he couldn't see her face. 

“Don't,” Tenten whispered, her voice breaking. A droplet fell on his cheek, and when he reached up to touch her face he found that she was crying. “Don't say that just because you think we're going to die.” 

Neji was taken aback, but the shock faded quickly. He shook his head. “I didn't say it because I think we're going to die.” 

“Then—”

“I love you,” he said. “That's why I said it. Because it's true, and you deserve to hear it.” 

Tenten let out a soft sound, then leaned forward to press her mouth to his. “If we die,” she said, breaking away.

“We won't.” 

She snorted. “What happened to not making promises you can't keep? Are you taking over for Lee now?”

Neji shook his head, lifting himself up to catch Tenten's mouth in another kiss. “Can't I have hope?” 

Tenten laughed, shaking her head. “When did you become such a sap?” 

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” he muttered, falling back to the bed. Tenten laughed again, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“With pleasure,” she whispered, cuddling closer. Neji wrapped his arms around her, settling into the warmth and comfort of her that he'd so missed. Everything made more sense with her in his arms, like the world had been upside down for so long and only now had it righted itself. No matter what happened—with the war, with the clan, with Lee—he had Tenten, and he was sure he could get through it all. 

***

A shinobi village was only as strong as the Kage leading it; only as organized as the Kage; only as disciplined as the Kage; and only as loyal as the Kage. Tsunade had never been very organized, but she thought she at least had the other three down. Unfortunately, she had overestimated herself or, more accurately, underestimated Hatake Kakashi's loyalty to Maito Gai. 

His report had sat on her desk since her meeting with the Kazekage. It had weighed on her mind heavily, distracting her from other matters she was sure were more pressing until she finally gave in to its pull. She had poured over it several times, going over every single detail with a fine-toothed comb until she was sure there was nothing left to uncover. She told herself they couldn't afford to send another team and the Kazekage's voice sounded in her head— _hypocrite_ —she told herself that it would be too dangerous to send another team— _coward_ —she told herself there was no point— _dishonorable_ —and then she'd run out of excuses. She needed to speak with Kakashi, she needed him to tell her again, with all the conviction of a man in love, that Gai might not be dead.

Her summons never reached him though. Her messenger returned alone, frustrated and tired. 

“He's not there,” the messenger had said, and Tsunade had dismissed him with a narrow-eyed look before going to Kakashi's apartment herself. It had been completely empty and the rooms stuffy with the summer's heat. Kakashi had not been home for at least twenty-four hours, if not more. 

Tsunade did not usually jump to conclusions. It did not suit someone in her position and it often led to poor choices, but she was not stupid. Given the state of things, she had more than a strong hunch as to where Kakashi had gone. There was only one person in the village who might know his whereabouts, but Tsunade wasn't sure she wouldn't punch right through the sand barrier that defended him so expertly if she went to speak with him immediately. 

Instead, she went for a long walk around the village, taking in deep breaths and forcing herself to remain calm, trying to reason with herself as she went. The Kazekage was too arrogant for his own good, but Tsunade didn't think he would go so far as to order one of her shinobi on a mission she had expressly denied. At best it could land him in prison; at worst he could lose his seat as Kazekage. 

Gaara was too dedicated to his village for that, wasn't he? 

Had Tsunade had not only underestimated Kakashi, but also the Kazekage? The war had forced them into so many corners, had made them so desperate that they all had their backs up against the wall. They made the decisions they had to, whether they liked them or not. Tsunade hadn't liked denying Kakashi or Lee their requests to rescue Gai, but she had a village to think about. It didn't make sense to her when Gai was dead and Kumo most likely taken. What could they possibly gain? The risks weren't worth it.

Gaara had been vocal in his disagreement, certainly. But to such an extreme that he would go behind her back?

Tsunade spent a long hour standing at the top of Hokage monument, watching the comings and goings of her village. By the end of it, a cool, calculated calm had settled over her. It was apparent to her that the Kazekage had indeed sent Kakashi to Kumo—that Kakashi had willingly obeyed the order was another matter. There was nothing she could do now that Kakashi was gone, except hope for the best and make an example of the Kazekage for his insolence. She was the Hokage, this was Konoha, her word was law and he would never forget that again.

***

“You cannot convince me to stay,” Lee said the moment Gaara had entered his room. He stared impassively at Lee, meeting his stubborn gaze head on. Tenten huffed from her place perched on the edge of Neji's bed. 

“You two,” she muttered, unnecessarily. Lee seemed determined to out-stare Gaara, but the Kazekage had spent many years refining his abilities to stare unblinkingly at a group of pompous council members hellbent on blocking his every move. He could communicate a lot of things with a simple gaze: annoyance, boredom, disinterest, anger, not to mention imminent death. Lee, for all his determination, would simply never be able to match him in this. Though he gave it his all—as he did with everything—Lee looked away after only five minutes, brow creased in frustration and his lip jutting out. 

Gaara suppressed a smile as he set his gourd down and took the seat at Lee's bedside. The window was open, letting in a cool breeze and the fresh smell of the forest. It was a nice day, warm and inviting. The warmth was nothing compared to Suna's summers, but it was just enough that it tweaked a sense of nostalgia in Gaara.

“How are you doing?” he finally asked, settling into a position that could pass as bearable for his aching ribs. The stress from the past few days had finally begun to ease with Kakashi and Kichirou off on their mission to Kumo, and with them went some of the pain he'd felt. Gaara, ever the realist, knew there was no guarantee they would come back, but he could not shake the feeling that sooner or later Kichirou, Kakashi, and their team would return with news of Kumo, the enemy, and Maito Gai in their midst. 

Lee fidgeted, his fingers brushing against his bare wrists for bandages that weren't there. Gaara watched him, noting the scars around his knuckles. He glanced up at Lee, pinning him with his gaze again, waiting for an answer. 

“I am the same,” he said finally, the words holding the weight of resignation. “My injuries are healing though.” 

“And I take it you'll attempt another escape once you are well?” 

Lee frowned. “There is nothing that can stop me. Not even your ANBU.” 

Tenten, who was watching carefully, rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “You're so full of it, Lee.” 

“I am not,” he snapped, glaring. “I will rescue Gai-sensei. I absolutely will!” 

“Lee,” Neji said, his voice more gentle than Tenten's but still firm. 

Lee turned his head away from his teammate, closing his eyes. “I am still not speaking with you.” 

“You can still listen to what I have to say,” Neji countered. “You can't honestly think you'll get out of the village unnoticed. You're not stronger than ANBU guards, Lee."

Gaara was surprised to hear his teammates doubt him; they should know better than anyone how fast and strong Lee was. He had no doubt that, should Lee escape again, he would easily outrun any ANBU within the village. Lee might not be able to outmatch their abilities in genjutsu and ninjutsu, but he didn't need to in order to escape with the speeds he could reach. Lee was the strongest and fastest person Gaara had ever met and no one, not even his ANBU, could stop him once he got going. He didn't want Lee to know that, though. It would only spurn him on, make him cocky, send him to Kumo faster. Kichirou had made it quite clear in his report: If Lee attempted to escape again, it was unlikely anyone could stop him. Gaara had taken it upon himself to visit Lee and ensure that he wasn't planning anything anytime soon. 

It would be easier if he could tell Lee his plans, how he'd sent his ANBU and Kakashi to Kumo; how Kakashi believed Gai was alive too; how hopeful he was for success in this—but he couldn't trust Lee to keep this secret, and he couldn't risk someone overhearing. If Tsunade found out before the mission was a success, the ramifications would be far worse than their constant bickering for both Gaara and the alliance.

“You should listen to him,” Gaara offered. “If Gai is alive, then he'll find his way back. You have to have faith.” 

Lee opened tear-filled eyes to stare at Gaara. Though Gaara was not socially or emotionally well educated, he was good at reading people; people were not nearly as complicated as they though they were. Of course, there would always be things Gaara could not decipher, that he would never understand, but he prided himself on his abilities to pick apart a simple expression and find meaning in it. Lee, however, was often an enigma to Gaara. Perhaps it was because he was so honest and open. Shinobi—especially those from Suna—were by nature closed off, guarded. He could not remember a time Lee had ever been anything like the standard shinobi, and it often made Gaara feel off balance. He had begun to understand Lee better, but there were still times—moments like this—when Gaara could not figure out what Lee was thinking. His expression was uncharacteristically guarded, more closed-off than Gaara was used to from Lee, yet somehow still vulnerable. He stared back, trying to piece together the meaning behind Lee's gaze from the cues in his face, but he came up blank. 

“Don't encourage him,” Tentent said softly, looking down. Gaara glanced at her. Her hands were clenched in fists, her gaze unseeing, and her posture tense. Neji reached for her, his hand searching for hers. She blinked back tears, taking his hand in hers and sighing. 

“Do you think he is alive?” Lee asked. He'd spoken so quietly that Gaara almost missed it. He flicked his gaze away from Neji and Tenten, staring up at Lee. That guarded look was still firmly in place, leaving him lost as to how best to proceed. Temari would be far better suited for comforting a grieving friend. 

He hesitated, which seemed to be the wrong thing to do because the tears that had been threatening to fall spilled down his cheeks. Lee closed his eyes tight, balling his hands into fists, the scars around his knuckles a furious pink from the strain. “Please do not give me hope where there is none,” he said in a whisper, his voice breaking. “If I am the only one who believes then—then maybe I should give up. Maybe—”

Gaara narrowed his eyes. “Stop,” he said, firmly. “Wallowing in misery and self-pity won't bring him back.” 

Lee's eyes snapped open, his mouth gaping as he stared at Gaara. “I am not—”

“You are,” Gaara countered. “Is this really the measure of your worth, Lee? Are you only worth anything so long as your sensei is alive?” 

Lee's lip trembled, his eyes streaming. “Ho—how can you say that?” 

“You told me not to fill you with hope,” Gaara said. “I'm not. I don't know whether Gai is alive or not, but I know that you are. If you throw away everything now because of this, then you are doing him and his teachings a disservice, as well as your village and your self.” 

“You are too cruel,” Lee said, gasping the words on a sob. “I am not—this is not self-pity! I am not doing anyone a disservice!” 

Gaara glanced at Lee's teammates. Neji and Tenten sat quietly, still holding hands, listening intently. Tenten's face was streaked with tears that ran unchecked down her face. 

“You are too stubborn to see what's in front of you,” Gaara said. He gestured stiffly to Neji and Tenten across from him, and Lee's gaze followed. “Your teammates are worried about you, and so am I. The Lee I know doesn't give up when the odds are against him.” 

“Lee,” Tenten said softly, reaching her free hand to him. “Please, listen to him. We—we just want you back. We miss you.” 

Lee wiped at his face furiously, averting his gaze. He pulled his good leg up to his chest and pressing his forehead against his knee to hide his face. “I—I am so sorry,” he sobbed. “I-I w-wish I could—could be myself, but i-i-it hurts so much.” 

Gaara watched Lee, his throat tight. He understood pain of the heart all too well, and though he spoke only the truth, he regretted having to speak it. Especially when he could easily give Lee what he wanted; but the news of a new mission to Kumo would get his hopes up far worse than his own determination to escape. If the mission failed, it would crush him more efficiently than Gaara's sand. Much as he wanted to ease Lee's pain, he would not give in to temptation; he did not think Lee could bear to live through the pain of losing his sensei again so soon.

Tenten sniffed, slipping off of Neji's bed and moving to Lee's. She climbed onto it, wrapping her arms around Lee, pressing her face into his hair. “Shh, it's okay. W-we know, Lee. We—we know.” 

Lee sobbed harder. Gaara looked away, shifting so he could look out the window and give them some privacy. Rustling from the other bed and the sound of bare feet hitting tile met his ears, and when he focused on the reflection in the glass, he could see Neji standing near his teammates, a hand on Tenten's shoulder. Gaara closed his eyes, swallowing past the emotion he felt rising in him. 

He kept his back to them, the position painful but worth it when he thought that maybe, just maybe Lee would start to feel better. If nothing else, Lee had opened himself up to his teammates again. 

It took ten minutes for Lee's sobbing to subside. Finally, he was reduced to hiccuping, tears still falling though with less frequency and less urgency. Tenten's eyes were red and puffy, and Neji's bandages seemed to be wet as well. Gaara watched them from the corner of his eye, relieved to see that Lee was holding Tenten's hand and not pushing Neji away. They belonged together, those three. They were as much family as he and his own siblings were. 

The moment was broken by a knock at the door. A flicker of chakra alerted Gaara to one of his ANBU guards. He frowned, getting stiffly to his feet. 

“I can get it,” Tenten said thickly.

“It's for me,” Gaara explained, moving across the room. On the opposite side of the door stood one of his ANBU. 

“Forgive the intrusion, Kazekage-sama, but the Hokage has requested a meeting.” 

Gaara resisted the urge to sigh. “Did she say when?” 

“I believe she wanted to see you immediately.” 

“Thank you,” Gaara said, his tone clipped. “Dismissed.” 

He glared at the empty space before him, irritated by Tsunade's summons. Did she honestly expect him to report to her at the drop of a hat? She hadn't seen fit to speak with him in depth about the mission beforehand, and he couldn't imagine that she'd decided to now. If she wanted to speak with him, then she would request it like anyone else. He wasn't going to be ordered around like some rookie. He returned to his seat, sitting down a bit harder than he'd meant to. His ribs protested, but he managed to keep the pain from showing in his expression. Lee and Tenten were watching him openly. 

“Aren't you going to go?” Tenten asked. 

“I'm in the middle of visiting an ailing friend,” Gaara said evenly. “The Hokage can wait.” 

Lee boggled, and then a slow smile spread across his face. It was the first smile Gaara had seen since his return from the failed mission. “What if it is important?” 

“If it's dire, she'll come find me.” 

“She will not like that,” Lee said, his small smile broadening. 

“Fortunately, I don't care,” Gaara said dryly. 

Lee laughed, surprising his teammates. Tenten seemed on the verge of tears again, but she quickly recovered shaking her head. “You shouldn't laugh about that, Lee! The Hokage would have your head!” 

He shook his head, wiping at his face. “I do not care,” he said firmly, a hard edge to his voice. It was defiance, something Gaara had never thought he'd see so readily directed at the Hokage from Lee. 

“You're still mad at her,” Neji said carefully. 

“Yes,” he said. “If she had not sent us on that mission none of this would have happened. And she is the only one with the power to make it right, but she will not allow me to look for Gai-sensei. I cannot forgive her for that.” 

Tenten tutted, wagging a finger at Lee, though it seemed more playful in nature than serious. “She is definitely going to punch you into next week, Lee.” 

Lee lifted his chin. “I can take it.” 

Tenten laughed. “Of course you can.” 

“Tenten's right, though,” Gaara offered, the edge of his mouth curved slightly in amusement. “The Hokage would be furious with you for laughing at her.” 

Lee stared at Gaara, panic flickering in his expression before passing when he caught Gaara's eye. He grinned. “Fortunately, I do not care!” he exclaimed with a thumbs up for emphasis. Gaara had missed seeing that pose, oddly enough. 

“You're a terrible influence, Kazekage-sama,” Tenten chided. 

Neji shook his head. “He's a better influence than Gai. At least he's not encouraging Lee to get out of bed to train.” 

Tenten laughed, fondly. “Oh, don't even kid! If they were both in here it would be a nightmare.” 

“Hey!” Lee shouted, an affronted look chasing away his smile.

“'I challenge you to a thousand push-ups on one-finger!'” Tenten said, dropping her voice in a rather good imitation of Gai. 

“'I shall do two-thousand, Gai-sensei.” Neji's imitation of Lee was lacking in Gaara's opinion. He didn't have nearly enough enthusiasm behind the statement. 

“That is not accurate at all,” Lee said, pouting. “I could do three-thousand.” 

All three burst into a fit of laughter: Tenten fell onto Lee's bed, banging her fist against the mattress as Neji chuckled, hiding his mouth behind his hand. Lee threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly, all of his energy put into it. Gaara watched him, transfixed. It was rare that anyone laughed so fully around him. Suna's people expressed themselves so differently, and his shinobi never dropped pretenses around him—he was the Kazeakge, after all. It would be unprofessional for them to be so relaxed and carefree. His siblings were the only ones who ever acted naturally around him and they weren't prone to such loud displays. 

But Lee laughed the way he lived, with all encompassing joy and energy, a vibrancy that Gaara had never seen from anyone else in his life. It was a moment apart from the war efforts waging outside, a brief reprieve from the grief of losing their sensei. Somehow, Gaara had been allowed to be a part of it.

Tenten wiped her eyes, still giggling. “Oh, I haven't laughed like that in—I can't even remember.” 

“It has been awhile,” Lee agreed, taking in a deep breath. He looked better, a little bit less desolate and a lot more like his old self. His cheeks were red from laughter and there was light in his eyes again. Gaara knew it would not last. This was only a moment; Lee had a long way to go before the grief over his sensei became bearable, but he was sure now that Lee would be all right if the mission failed. 

Tenten sat up, grabbing Lee's face with both hands and squishing his cheeks. “Don't you dare get serious again. I will not stand for it, Rock Lee. Do you hear me?” 

Lee stared wide-eyed at Tenten, nodding with some difficulty within Tenten's grip. “I—I hear you, Tenten. I am sorry. I—”

Tenten sighed, patting Lee's head. “Just—you're not the only one who lost him, okay? We're hurting too. But we'll get through this together. Right, Neji?” She turned to him, pulling him closer so that he was practically sitting in Lee's bed with her. She laced her fingers with his, an unconscious gesture. Lee's gaze settled on their entwined hands. 

“She's right,” Neji said. “We'll help each other get through this.” 

Lee looked up at Neji and Tenten, tilting his head. “Why are you two holding hands?” 

Tenten's face turned bright red and Neji choked. “Oh—well—” 

Lee's eyes went wide and a smile spread across his face as bright as sunshine. He launched himself at them, pulling them both into a hug, a fresh wave of tears falling down his face. “My beautiful teammates! I am so happy for you! Why did you not tell me sooner?!” 

Neji pulled himself from Lee's grasp with some difficulty, rubbing the back of his neck, his face pink. “We didn't want you to feel left out.” 

“And Neji—I mean, we wanted to be sure,” Tenten said, glancing at Neji. “We didn't want things to get awkward if it didn't work out.” 

“How could it not work out!?” Lee cried, looking aghast. “Love is more powerful than anything else! And now that you have embraced it fully, you can—”

Neji groaned. “Oh, no.” 

“Here he goes,” Tenten said with a put upon sigh, though her smile belied the truth of her fondness for Lee. Lee, for his part, didn't hear them.

“—truly experience the Springtime of Youth to its full potential! Your love will shine brightly in the dark times ahead! It will make you stronger than ever before!” His eyes sparkled with tears as he stared earnestly at his teammates. His smile faltered, but he forced it back in place. “Gai-sensei would be very happy for you, I am sure of it.” 

Tenten's indulgent smile turned sad. “I know he would. I—we should have said something sooner.” 

Something tickled Gaara's senses and he sat up straighter, narrowing his eyes. “Someone's coming.” 

The three turned to look at him, frowning.

“Who is it?” Neji said lowly. 

Gaara's mouth twitched. “I believe I have kept the Hokage waiting too long.” 

Lee snorted, turning back to Tenten. “How long has this been going on?” 

Tenten blinked. “Wha—oh! Oh, well,” she paused, glancing to Neji. 

“Thirteen months.” 

Tenten raised an eyebrow, smirking. “That long, huh?” 

Neji huffed. “Thirteen and a half.” 

“That is—I cannot believe I did not notice!” 

“I can,” Neji muttered. 

Lee glared. “You two must have been very careful!” 

“We were,” Tenten agreed.

“We thought it was for the best.” 

“I understand,” Lee said. “I am just—I am so happy for you both. It is—it is really n-nice to see that you have f-found your—” Lee broke off, his lip trembling and more tears streaming down his face. 

“Oh, Lee,” Tenten said, smiling. “You'll find your happiness too. Even if it's not Sakura—”

Lee wiped his face again, frowning. “Sa-Sakura-san? Oh, I—I did not mean—I am very happy for you two and I was not thinking of myself at all! I was just so overcome with feeling and I—well, truthfully, I was thinking of Gai-sensei. I wish he were here to share in the beauty of your new found—although, I suppose it is not so new, is it?” 

Gaara tuned them out, focusing completely on the presence outside. The Hokage was doing her best to be discreet, but Gaara already clued in on her arrival had sent sand slithering beneath the crack in the door, scattering it across the floor in the hall. 

He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He'd known she'd had him tailed the night before, he wasn't a rookie. And he knew that she would continue to send ANBU to watch him, but it was insulting to Gaara's skill for her to think he wouldn't be able to sense when he was being watched. He was the Kazekage, he knew exactly what it felt like to have eyes trained on him. 

“Kazekage-sama?” Lee's voice distracted Gaara, and he refocused his gaze on the others. “Is everything all right? Do your ribs hurt?” 

Gaara held up a hand. “I am fine, Lee. I have accepted that I will always be in some amount of pain, you shouldn't concern yourself.” 

“But—of course, I am concerned! After all, we are friends, right?” 

Gaara stared up into Lee's smiling face, lost for a brief moment. He jerked his head, nodding once. “There's nothing you can do, though. They've done all they can.”

“The dumplings were helping, right?” 

“In a way, yes.” 

“When I am all better, I will make you a fresh batch! I promise!” He gave Gaara another thumbs up. Gaara stared past the thumb to Lee's earnest face. 

“And what of your determination to find your sensei?” 

Lee's arm dropped a fraction and his smile wavered. “Ah, well, I can make them before I leave for my mission!” 

Gaara regarded Lee carefully, noting the pain that marred his expression at the mention of Gai. He would need to assign another ANBU guard to watch Lee until Kichirou returned from his mission. Lee, though happier than he'd been in days, was still determined to seek out the sensei no one believed to be alive. If he succeeded in leaving the village... Gaara did not want to think about the consequences. 

With a sigh, he rose from his seat. “I should go. I don't want to keep the Hokage waiting any longer,” he said dryly. 

Lee grinned. “Oh, no, of course not!” 

Gaara shook his head, amused by Lee's audacity. There was absolutely no way Tsunade hadn't heard him. “I'll see you later,” he said, making his way to the door.

“I look forward to it!” Lee said and, after a thoughtful pause, added “Thank you, Kazekage-sama.” Gaara glanced back at Lee. His smile had softened, a bit wistful and incredibly sad, but Lee was surrounded by his friends once more. Perhaps it wasn't much, but Gaara had faith in him. 

He nodded, then left. The Hokage stood in the middle of the corridor, tapping her foot impatiently, glaring at him. “Hokage,” he said. “You wanted to speak with me?”

***

Motoko stood on the highest branch of the highest tree she could find, watching as the sun set over the forests of Fire. The army was preparing their encampment below her, a mass of warriors erecting tents and starting fires in deep pits they'd dug in the earth. On the outskirts of their encampment, they set torches into the earth to keep the enemy at bay. The torches were close together, only three feet apart and they stretched the mile long camp that had been erected in just a few short hours. Looking down from her perch, it looked to Motoko like the great dragon of legend had returned to protect them. It was a comforting thought as the sky slowly darkened. 

She jumped from her perch, hopping from one branch to another until she landed on the hard earth of the forest. All around, the fires cast a warm glow, chasing away the approaching darkness that had already begun to take over the forest. 

“Motoko,” Mana said behind her. “We have finished fortifying the camp. Guards are stationed in the trees, the torches are lit, and traps set just beyond the fires. We should be safe for the night.” 

“Should be,” Motoko repeated softly. “We shall see. We are great in number and may yet attract more attention than we'd like.” 

“We can face this army,” Mana said. “I am sure of it.” 

Motoko watched her steadily, then turned away. “I have faith in the peoples of the desert, but I have heard enough from the Kazekage to know to fear this enemy. Don't let your guard down just because we are so large an army.” 

Mana inclined her head. “Understood.” 

“Have we found enough food for the night?” Motoko asked. 

“We have very little. Our supplies are spread thinner than we'd hoped, and the traps we set have been mostly untouched. The forest seems to be almost devoid of life.” 

A wry smile curled upon her face. “The dead have claimed this forest,” she said. “Does it surprise you that so little life remains?” 

“Not as such,” Mana admitted. 

Motoko hummed softly to herself, thinking. “Divide up what we have,” she said finally. “We will be in Konoha soon enough. The desert's people are resilient. We have gone much longer than a few nights without food.” 

“Very well. I shall see to it that it's done.” Mana walked away, limping towards her tribe and giving out the order for food. Motoko walked closer to the line of torches, watchful of the darkness just beyond the reach of the light. She felt the heavy gaze of the dead creeping upon them as she stared into the darkness, but it did not unnerve her as she had feared. Perhaps her confidence came from the fire that surrounded them, but Motoko stared back into the darkness unafraid. She squared her jaw, watching the shadows twist and turn, catching a glimpse of something glinting in the light before it vanished. 

Something settled over Motoko, a calmness that eased every muscle in her body. She knew the dead would not let them through the forest without a fight and that come tomorrow, they would need to travel with lit torches until they reached the relative safety of Konoha if they had any hope of making it there alive. However, even knowing the threat of entering the forest fully, Motoko felt light. She was sure of absolutely nothing—not the outcome of the war, not the outcome of their journey, not even her own personal mission—but that ignorance steadied her, made her feel brave. 

There were only two absolutes in this world: life and death. Either they would live or they would die, there was no in between as far as she knew—even though the dead walked among them freely, Motoko knew there was nothing else so sure in the world. Whatever held the dead to the world of the living was a lie, an illusion that would eventually fade allowing the dead to return to the after life. 

The real question was who would join them, but Motoko did not need that answer immediately. Fearing her own death would only slow her down, make her weak—and there were far scarier things in the world than the knowledge that she could die at any given moment. Motoko turned away from the darkness, returning to the glowing camp around her. 

***

The rapping of the gavel against the its wooden block sounded around the small chamber, the vaulted ceiling echoing that sharp sound. Gaara clenched his hands, hidden by his Kage robe, then forced them to relax. He stared at the long table before him, where Konoha's two council members sat on either side of Tsunade in the center. The outer seats were taken up by his own council, their beady eyes intent upon him. At the far end, a young Chuunin sat with paper and pen in hand, waiting to take notes. 

“It is the twelfth day of the seventh month, and the time is twelve o'clock,” Homura said as the sound of the gavel died. The notary began to write, the sound of scratching on paper mingling with Homura's words. “We call this disciplinary meeting to order to discuss the actions taken by the Kazekage, Gaara of the Desert, on an indeterminate date. As it is a time of war, the final decision will be chosen to ensure the least negative impact on the war efforts.” 

Koharu cleared her throat, picking up where Homura had left off. “Kazekage, you are brought before the council of Konohagakure and Sunagakure on the accusation that you gave orders to a shinobi not within your services, one Hatake Kakashi, and sent him on a suicide mission to Kumogakure against the Hokage's orders. Do you deny this?” 

Gaara leveled his gaze at Koharu. “No,” he said evenly. 

Tsunade's lip curled, her hands clenching before her. Homura and Koharu exchanged looks, as the Suna council began to whisper. Homura banged the small gavel against the table again, silencing the whispering. “I see,” he said. “And do you understand that your actions violate the laws of the first Shinobi Treaties put in place after the First Shinobi War, and that under normal circumstances, such actions could result in the loss of leadership of your village?” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes, clamping down on the sand in his gourd before it could begin to roll in his agitation. “I am aware, but the treaties of the Second Shinobi War created the Laws of War, wherein a Kage could chose to act on behalf of another village if that village's leader were incapacitated.” 

“I am not incapacitated!” Tsunade snapped. Homura banged his gavel. 

Gaara continued as though he hadn't heard Tsunade. “In addition, the Laws of War state that if a Kage cannot lead their people with a clear and level-head during a time of war another Kage can step in.” 

“You've done your homework, at least,” Homura muttered, begrudgingly. 

“It's my job to know these things,” Gaara said lowly. “The Laws of War are clear. I was well within my right to act as Kazekage.”

“You've overlooked a very important aspect of the law, Kazekage,” Koharu interjected. “Action cannot be taken on behalf of another Kage without first a meeting of the allied forces, the councils, and the Daimyo of the land of the Kage in question—in this case the Hi Daimyo. You took the matter into your own hands instead of following procedure.” 

“There was no time for procedure,” Gaara said, clenching his hands tighter. “Given what we can assume, the Raikage is probably dead and Kumogakure has most likely fallen as Suna did. It wasn't just one man's life on the line, it was all of us—the enemy has advanced without our knowledge. I did what was necessary.” 

“That may be the case, but because of your actions, we must assume that you are no longer capable of working with the other Kage. Furthermore, it shows a lack of respect for the Hokage. You are not the leader of this village, you are merely a guest—”

“A refugee,” Gaara corrected, patience wearing thing. “Me and my people are refugees here, and I'm expected to do nothing while another village has met the same fate as mine. I am expected to sit idly by while the Hokage refuses to listen to reason. We don't have time for bureaucracy—we've already spent too much time in meetings, waiting for the enemy to make his final play. The enemy isn't going to sit down with us to talk politics, to go over laws and treaties. He isn't going to wait around for us to gather up our defenses. Madara is going to attack us when we're weakest.” 

“Madara has nothing to do with this!” Tsunade snapped. 

“He has everything to do with this,” Gaara growled. “Suna fell by his hand, Kumo has fallen by his hand, Konoha will fall by his hand—the entire forest is overrun with the enemy's army! Madara is moving his pieces with each passing day, and we're sitting idly by waiting for his next move. Well, he's made it: as far as we know Kumo is no more, but you've done nothing about it, Hokage. I did; Hatake Kakashi came to me and I made the only choice available.” 

“The only choice?” Tsunade gaped. “You could have come to me! You could have—”

“Been turned away? Told that it was none of my business? You've spent the last five weeks trying to outmaneuver me. Every decision I've made has been vetoed, every suggestion countered. I asked you to report the details of the retrieval mission to me, but you refused until it suited you. You kept me waiting and then refused to share vital information. You've been doing everything to prove that you were right so your pride isn't injured. I was sick of the power-plays, Hokage, and so I went ahead and used my power to do something useful.” 

Homura banged the gavel again. “Silence! Sit down, Hokage! Please! This is a disciplinary hearing, not a match.” 

“Kazekage,” Koharu said, clearing her throat. “While you make valid points, we cannot overlook your actions. Punishment must be dealt.” 

“Then deal it,” Gaara said. “Make an example of me so the Hokage is satisfied and let's return to the real issue at hand.” 

“You impudent little brat—”

“Hokage,” Homura snapped. “Please, contain yourself.” 

Tsunade subsided, glaring furiously across the room at Gaara. He met her gaze, steadfast and unblinking; he knew he was right, and somewhere deep down so did she. She could be as furious with him as she wanted, but it wasn't going to change the reality of the situation. He'd do it again without hesitation if it came right down to it. 

“According to the Laws of War, a Kage will avoid imprisonment and loss of rank, but remember, Kazekage, you will be monitored more closely by Konoha at war's end. You may keep your title and move freely, however, as you are a guest in this village—refugee, if you prefer—then your movements will be restricted.” 

Tsunade cleared her throat, breaking eye contact with Gaara to glance to Homura, who rolled his eyes. “At the suggestion of the Hokage, you are no longer permitted to speak with any Konoha shinobi without an appointed monitor present—this includes personal visits.” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes at Tsunade, nostrils flaring. “I see.” 

“Furthermore,” Koharu continued, as Homura faltered at the look on Gaara's face, “any and all action taken by Suna for the remainder of the war must be submitted in writing to the Hokage and the council of Konoha for approval. This will ensure that all parties are kept aware of the others' actions.” 

“Is that so?” Gaara murmured. “Then will the Hokage also be submitting written plans of action to me and my council?” 

“No,” Tsunade snapped. “I'm not the one on trial, Kazekage.” 

“Perhaps you should be, Hokage,” Gaara challenged. 

“Kazekage,” Koharu said, “please, remember yourself. You have broken laws, the Hokage has not.” 

Tsunade narrowed her eyes, her mouth twitching into a small smile. She looked triumphant, as though she'd just won her own personal war. This had been her ultimate power-play and Gaara had fallen to it. 

Homura cleared his throat. “As we were saying, you must submit a plan of action. In addition to this, you will be expected to provide reparations to Konoha after the war for the excess of resources expended during your stay—”

Gaara was on his feet before he could think about the immediate consequences. His ribs throbbed in protest and his sand hissed loudly. Homura's gavel hit the ground with a loud clack that was lost beneath the sound of the angry scratching of Gaara's sand within his gourd. “How dare you? You would force Suna to remain weak all in the name of your pride, Hokage? My people lost everything, Suna has nothing to give you, and yet you demand more because you refuse to accept that you are wrong!” 

Tsunade rose to her full height, squaring her shoulders. “I am doing what needs to be done for my village. You forced my hand, Kazekage. I have done nothing but try to make you see reason—”

“You have only tried to make me see your way,” he snapped. “Yours is not the only way, and I will be damned if I accept that my people must suffer for our dispute. Leave my people out of this. Punish me if you must, but do not force my people to starve for the sake of vanity.” 

Tsunade's nostrils flared. “This is not vanity, Kazekage. You will pay the reparations or so end our alliance—”

“Then it is at an end,” Gaara growled, his gourd shaking uncontrollably beside his chair. “I will not be held hostage by you or your misguided decisions. I am the Kazekage of Suna, not a child you can order around.” 

“Funny, you look like a child,” Tsunade said, sneering. 

“And you act like one,” he snapped.

“O-order!” Homura shouted, finally retrieving the gavel. “Kazekage! Hokage! Please!” 

“No,” Gaara said. “This meeting is nothing but a way for Tsunade to abuse her power and force me into a corner. I refuse to go along with it anymore.” 

Tsunade narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Then this meeting will be postponed... until _after_ the war.” 

“You wouldn't dare,” Gaara growled. 

“Try me,” Tsunade said. 

Pressure built around Gaara, hot and heavy, sand swirling at his feet. He clenched his hands, opening and closing them in an attempt to ground himself, but to no avail. Finally, he inclined his head. 

“I accept the reparations,” he whispered. “Let us be done with this.” 

Tsunade was watching him, her mouth crooked and her chin held high. She had won. If Gaara didn't accept the punishment now, then he would lose everything later. Tsunade had outmaneuvered him so efficiently that his only other option was to give up the leadership of Suna. Now, his people would struggle, rebuilding the village would be harder, but if he were forced to step down there was no telling what hardships would face the village. He couldn't let that happen. 

The gavel rang through the room. “This meeting is adjourned. Thank you for your cooperation, Kazekage.” 

***

Sakura stared at the Hokage's office door, not really seeing it. Her mind was elsewhere, back in the forest with their fallen comrades, back with Sai. She floated away from her body, distantly aware of Shizune and Midori on either side of her as they waited for the Hokage to arrive. 

It had been late when they'd arrived at the gates with the rest of their team and the process of being admitted into the village had taken another half hour. The Captain of the Guard had questioned them extensively, as if convinced they were the enemy come to call. His questions had been long, arduous, and invasive, and it wasn't until a Suna shinobi had snapped at him to do the physical evaluation that he'd stopped. Eventually, he had let them pass, but he'd done so reluctantly, eyeing them as they filed past him into the village. Once through the gates, most of their team had been sent to their homes for rest. The thought of sleep hadn't appealed to Sakura, and since it had been her team that had discovered the serum she felt it was her duty to report to Tsunade along with Shizune. It would be easier to recite a mission report than fall asleep; Sakura hadn't slept properly since she'd seen Sai in the forests. After they'd lost two of their number, sleep hadn't come for the others either. 

Shizune shifted beside her, nudging Sakura gently and pulling her from her thoughts. She stared dazedly down the hall as Tsunade approached, looking tired but alert. Sakura automatically straightened, standing at attention. 

“Shizune,” Tsunade said as she approached, her voice soft and full of disbelief. “I was beginning to worry.”

Shizune's mouth was pressed in a thin line, her eyes bright in the light. “We were delayed. The forest is worse than when we left.” 

“But you got through. You're here,” Tsunade said, her eyes glassy in the dim light. “Come inside.” She glanced at Sakura for the first time, her expression turning grim. “Sakura.” 

“Tsunade-shishou.” 

Tsunade regarded her a moment longer, then turned towards her office, unlocking the door. Sakura followed the Hokage and her teammates inside automatically, her legs carrying her forward without conscious thought. 

The office was the same as always: wide and open, with a desk near the window that was piled high with scrolls, and beneath one or two Sakura could see sake cups. The smell of alcohol was almost masked by the musty smell of so many scrolls sitting in the warm office for so long. 

It was as though nothing had changed, as though Sakura hadn't been gone for two and a half long months, as though Sai weren't dead and Naruto left on an island to wait out the war he knew nothing about. Sakura wondered detachedly if any of the scrolls on Tsunade's desk detailed how Sai had died. 

“You three didn't need to report immediately. I'm sure you're tired,” Tsunade said, taking a seat at her desk and beginning to clear it off. 

“We wanted to bring in the serum right away,” Shizune said. “And Sakura insisted on submitting our report as soon as possible.” 

Tsunde nodded, keeping her gaze down as she organized more scrolls. “Well, Sakura, let's have your report.” 

Sakura's mouth felt dry, but she spoke clearly and precisely. “We arrived at our designated hide-out in Iron fifteen days after departing from Konoha. We began our work immediately, but with little to work with we struggled. We struggled to come up with a sensible way to fight, disputes between our comrades was common, especially given the past tensions between villages. At first it seemed impossible to find a solution, and then exactly one month into our research we received Orochimaru's research.

“The research was coded and difficult to decipher at first,” Sakura continued, pausing briefly. She pulled from her weapons' pouch several scrolls which she placed on an open space on Tsunde's desk. The Hokage glanced at the scrolls, but still didn't look at Sakura. “It took two weeks for my own team to make any headway. These are the notes from my team. We've kept the research of every team, but this is what's pertinent to the war effort. After the first two weeks, I hit a breakthrough. Something about Orochimaru's research finally clicked, and I set my team to working on a new theory. It took us three days to come up with anything solid, but eventually we had a viable solution to the problem. 

“After demonstrating for our comrades, we began working and were able to produce a serum to counteract the Resurrection Jutsu. It took us another three days, but I believe that should we need more of this serum we could replicate it in less time now that we have the know-how.”

Sakura set her pack on the floor and revealed the many vials she'd been carrying. She picked one up, holding it up. The clear blue liquid shown, catching the light in a way that made it look crystalline. Sakura set it on Tsunade's desk before her. 

“We were able to test it out,” she added. “On our journey back we were ambushed. We'd been forced to move northward, off our chosen route by an enemy encampment.” She stopped abruptly, her throat tight and eyes burning. She wanted to tell Tsunade, to ask her why she'd sent Sai off on a mission that had killed him. 

The moment passed, Sakura felt as though she were floating again as she pushed those feelings aside. “We were unable to pass completely undetected, however. Once we were safely out of sight of the encampment, we stopped to get our bearings and were attacked. We lost Iemasa and Isshin in the assault, but the serum worked and the majority of our party made it out alive. We were able to take out three of the enemy before we could successfully retreat, but the serum absolutely worked.” 

Tsunade looked up at Sakura for the first time, her eyes shining. “Good work, Sakura.” 

Sakura nodded, but the praise did nothing for her. She had done what she'd had to do, she'd made a huge breakthrough and perhaps she had even surpassed Tsunade as a medic-nin, but Sakura felt empty and hollow at the praise. Sooner or later, she would need to use the very serum that would save them from this war on her own teammate. 

“I'm sure there is more,” Tsunade said, rising from her seat, “but you've had a long journey. A preliminary report will suffice for now. You three should get some sleep.” 

“Hokage-sama,” Shizune said, bowing. Midori followed suit. 

“We shall continue this discussion tomorrow afternoon. You can file your reports in full then, along with the rest of your team. Tomorrow, I will see if we can't have a meeting about training others to use this serum. Dismissed.” 

Shizune and Midori turned, but Sakura didn't budge. She stared down at the scrolls on Tsunade's desk, at the glittering vial of serum, and waited. 

“Sakura?” 

She looked up at the Hokage, her eyes wet with unshed tears. Distantly, at the edges of her consciousness she felt cloying distress. It choked her, made it hard to breathe. She boxed it up, pushed it deep down into the dark places of her soul. “I have o-one more thing to report, Hokage-sama.” 

Tsunade frowned, shaking her head. “It can wait, Sakura. You need sleep—”

“Sai's dead.” 

Tsunade did not react to the news. It was all Sakura needed. “You already knew that, didn't you?” 

“I did,” Tsunade said with a sigh. “I was going to wait to tell you until—”

“Wait? Why? For how long?” 

“I don't know,” Tsunade snapped. Her expression crumpled and she ran a hand down her face. “I don't know, Sakura. I just—I didn't want you to come home to that. I thought—I just thought it would be for the best if you didn't know until later.” 

“He was my teammate,” Sakura said. “He was—he and I—and Naruto—how could you? I want to know what happened.”

Tsunade stared at Sakura sadly, then with a heavy sigh, she opened a drawer on her desk and removed a scroll. “Take this with you. I have a copy already.” 

Sakura's hand shook as she took the scroll from Tsunade. She stared at the Hokage, at a lost for words. Finally, she turned away, without another word and left. 

***

That night the army made camp at the site of Kuu's final battle, spreading out half a mile, erecting tents and digging pits into the sand to build fires or dig up water. Yuka directed the warriors around them, keeping people at bay as San sat in the sand with Kuu, preparing the traditional rites of their people. The Black Scorpion tribe's leader had been called, and he brought with him his warriors to assist in taking apart the two scorpions they had taken down. 

By the time night had fallen on their encampment, the scorpions' meat was cut and passed throughout the army, cooking on roaring fires. There was enough meat from the two creatures to feed half the army, while others broke into their rations or hunted other prey—the meat of the scorpions went first to the tribes that had aided San in defeating the creatures, then outward to the rest of the warriors who wished to partake. 

The leader of the Black Scorpion tribe, Kurogumo, took up the remaining scorpion's severed sting, carefully avoiding the dark poison oozing from its tip as he approached San. 

“Forgive the intrusion, but as is customary, these,” he said, indicating the sting and the remaining carcasses of the scorpions, now mostly just their hollowed out armor, “are rightfully your spoils to claim, San of the Red Rock. How would you like us to proceed?” 

San glanced numbly at the husks of the conquered creatures. “We shall use every last piece, let nothing be wasted. Can your people turn those shells into armor or weapons tonight?” 

Kurogumo frowned. “It is possible, though I could not promise the integrity of such rushed work.” 

“I do not need beautiful armor, I just need armor that works. Make as many weapons and as much armor as you can, and distribute it by morning. As for that,” San said, pointing to the sting, “you should keep that. That's plenty of venom to make antidotes for all the tribes, isn't it?” 

“More than,” Kurogumo agreed. “There's probably enough here to make antidotes to last many moons and still have plenty to dip weapons in.” 

“Antidotes take priority,” San said. “Anything remaining we'll use on our weapons.” 

Kurogumo nodded. “Understood.” 

He turned back to his tribespeople, calling one to him and handing off the sting. They went to work immediately, taking apart segments of the hard shell and cutting into it with their weapons as others built a pit large enough for a massive flame. San returned to their task, shutting out the goings on around them. 

Before San, on a cloth sat an assortment of blades. They had prepared themself for this moment as best they could, but San still stalled, running a hand along Kuu's muzzle, pretending that he still purred at their touch. Finally, San took in a deep breath, stealing themself for what they were about to do. 

Carefully, San picked up the sharpest knife and began to carefully peel back Kuu's fur. The knife slid between skin and muscle, slicing through easily. The sound made San's stomach turn. It was not customary for the leader of the Red Gorge to perform such a ceremony, but with the healers of their tribe far off, it was up to San to complete the ritual. Kuu deserved the honor more than any other beast that had blessed the tribe. No matter how difficult it was for San, they would see it through. 

Yuka kept a steady guard up, but it was unnecessary. By the time San had started, everyone knew to give them a wide berth and, apart from the sound of the Black Scorpion tribe at work, everything around them was silent. 

San hated the silence half an hour in with barely any progress made when they started to dry heave, sobbing and retching as they skinned their longtime friend and comrade. “You-you w-wi-will bless this battle. Your spirit, eternal, shall r-ride with me to the e-enemy's door and—and—” San stopped, choking. They closed their mouth tight against a wave of nausea, forcing down bile. “And we will bring down the very sun's wrath. Lend me your strength, lend me your resilience, lend me your grace, great beast of the desert.” 

It took several hours and San threw up three times before they had finished, but finally Kuu's pelt had been skinned, leaving San with only two final things: to make a helm from Kuu's head and to eat his heart. San was shaking and weak, but they did not falter as they began work on Kuu's massive head. Though their stomach turned as they knocked teeth from his mouth to make into weapons, though their hands shook as they pulled his face from his skull, they did not give in to the need to run from this. They would not dishonor Kuu that way, they would not fail to fulfill this task. If they didn't finish the task, then San could very well forfeit the title they carried and burn all the markings from their body that told of their greatness. San would not be worthy of any of it, nor the friendship they had been blessed with for so many years if they could not see this through.

As dawn peaked over the horizon, San finished their work. The Black Scorpion tribe had already begun handing out weapons and armor as San cut Kuu's heart from his chest. This was the final act that would tie Kuu's spirit to San for battle and ensure that Kuu was honored as a great beast of the desert. 

“Would you like me to fetch you water?” Yuka said, voice cracking from disuse. She had stood silent sentry, refusing to leave San's side the entire night. 

San swallowed, shaking their head. “It is not permissible to drink or eat anything with the heart. Water would wash away Kuu's spirit and I would have failed in my duties.” 

“Forgive me for suggesting it then,” Yuka said. 

San lifted the heart to their mouth. It was large and heavy, too much to eat quickly, and still warm to the touch. They swallowed, pushing down another wave of nausea. They should have been quicker, faster—if they'd just been a bit better Kuu would still be with them. But they had failed to save him, and now they dared to ask for Kuu's spirit to lend them strength? It seemed wrong to ask this of their friend when they had been the one to fail, not Kuu. 

San bit into the tough, chewy meat of Kuu's heart and swallowed the first piece whole along with their guilt. 

Blood poured down San's chin, staining their clothes and hands and face as they ate. San took large bites and with each one set aside their doubts, their reservations, and further guilt. Kuu had died protecting San, just as San would have died protecting him. They were comrades and friends and, even though Kuu had passed on, he would still be with San through the rest of their life. His spirit would give San strength and courage beyond measure, but only if San could look past their guilt.

San closed their eyes, swallowing another piece. They remembered Kuu's final moments, purring and looking up at San, begging for them to finish what had been started. Though his blood was on their hands, San had not killed Kuu. All they had done was mercifully end his pain.

It had been an act of love and friendship, an act that was sealed as San swallowed the final piece of Kuu's heart as sunlight crested the dunes, lighting up the desert in a golden glow. San's stomach turned, then settled as finally the guilt left them. They stared at the skyline past the dunes, watching with new eyes the light hitting the sand.

At war's end, if San survived, they would have the healers mark them with Kuu's likeness. They still had plenty of space on their back for further protective markings; Kuu would be proud to watch San's back for the rest of their life.

“When should I give the order to move out?” Yuka asked, disrupting San's musings. 

San rose to their feet, no longer shaking or weak with grief. Kuu had loved San even in his final moments, and that was enough to give San the strength they needed. With Kuu's heart filling their stomach and plans for a new mark to honor Kuu, San felt rejuvenated They glanced to Yuka, then towards the horizon again where Suna waited. 

“Give the order now,” San said. “I am ready for this battle.” San's gaze fell upon the last remaining scorpion still tethered to the earth. The Black Scorpion tribe had tended to its injuries and fed it the night before, calming the creature, but San knew there would never be any love or trust between them. This creature and its brethren had taken the life of San's best friend; and San had injured the monster and killed its own comrades. They would never share anything save distrust, but even that was a bond. Their shared grief bound them, indebted them to one another. It to San for killing Kuu and San to it for taking its sting from it.

And war was the perfect time to repay debts.

As Yuka left to alert the tribes, San approached the resting scorpion. It stirred, hissing at San's approach, but San did not flinch. 

“You and I,” San told it, leaning forward to look into its black eyes, “are going to war.” 

***

Lee was completely impossible and absolutely the most insufferably determined man she had ever met. 

Tenten had known that a conversation and a rekindling of Lee's friendship with Neji would not be enough to ease his grief or subdue his desire to save Gai-sensei. If anything, the Kazekage's last visit had only made things worse. Lee was more determined than ever. Every time Tenten turned around, he was planning his escape with such vigor it were as though the plans alone could bring Gai-sesei back. He'd even gone so far as to attempt to rope Neji into it despite the loss of his sight. According to Lee, Neji was just as good without his sight as he was with it and no matter how many times Tenten tried to reason with him he was past the point of listening. Neji had given up on trying to talk Lee out of it and had begun to indulge him instead, nodding and humming at all the right moments. 

Tenten rather wished he wouldn't. She wouldn't say so out loud, but she wanted to believe Lee could do it; she wanted to believe that somewhere out there Gai-sensei was still alive and in need of their help; she wanted to believe that Lee could save him, despite the cast still firmly in place and the strange mixture of drugs the Hokage had him on to keep him from fully regaining his strength. She wanted to defy the Hokage as readily and willingly as Lee did. 

But her doubts and fears crept in. She didn't want to lose Lee to his grief again, she didn't want to see him hurt or, worse, killed. She couldn't bear to lose him as well. 

If time healed all wounds, then time was not moving fast enough. Two weeks of Lee's mood swings, of Lee's constant bouts of silence, of his planning and his determination felt like a lifetime of watching him suffer. The war seemed to be at a standstill, but all around her she could see the grief and loss that it had wrought upon them. Eventually, she would have to go back to her own mission; she would see her charges again and see how they'd grown in skill but not in age, and she would swallow her feelings and do her duty.

When the war came, she would make sure that every single child in her care made it through to the end. She would not fail them as the village had when the council had handed them their hitai-ate without pause or concern. If war was about sacrifice, then Tenten would sacrifice everything she had to keep those children safe—and to keep her teammates safe and whole, as she hadn't been able to do for Gai-sensei. 

***

The Yamanaka Flower shop looked better than the last time Sakura had been there. It's windows were still boarded up, but there was no longer a massive hole through one wall. She could imagine that after the war, Ino and her mother would have it looking even better than it had before Pein's attack. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting the smell of so many flowers wash over her. 

Ino had been given her mission just before Sakura had left and, from what she'd told Sakura, it hadn't sounded like it would last long. There were few enough villages within Fire Country that Ino had probably been home for at least a month. After Sai's death, Sakura really needed the comfort of her best friend. 

Inside, a fan was blowing, moving the scent of flowers on a tepid breeze that did nothing to chase away the summer heat. Ino's mother was arranging a bouquet beside the fan, but the flowers were blowing around the counter in the breeze, forcing her to chase after them every so often. Sakura smiled fondly as another flower rolled away, falling to the floor, and Ino's mother turned to retrieve it. She stopped, catching sight of Sakura, her face awash with surprise and her eyes filling with tears. 

“Sakura-chan?” she said softly, hand at her chest. “When did you get back?” 

“Last night. I'm sorry to startle you, I just wanted to stop by and see if Ino's come back from her mission yet.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “N-no, she hasn't. It's been—a very hard mission. The council is sure she'll be back any day though.” 

Sakura's chest tightened. “She's—she's not back? But—it's been so long. I was sure—have you heard from her?” 

“Of course not,” Ino's mother snapped, clenching the fabric of her dress over her heart. “You should know better than to ask such a thing. Shinobi don't correspond with family or friends while on missions.” 

Sakura took a step forward, blood rushing in her ears, the tightening in her chest increasing. “But—but the Hokage would have—Ino said—she told me that she had to be in contact with the council for her mission.” 

“And she has, they assure me!” Ino's mother shouted. She gasped, turning away quickly. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I—it's been very hard. Rebuilding the shop, Ino being gone—I'm just—she'll be back soon, though, Sakura-chan. She'll be back. My little girl promised she'd come home.”

Sakura's heart stuttered in her chest, anxiety warring with her shinobi training. “I—”

“Sakura?” The familiar voice of Ino's father pulled her from spiraling downward, but the tightness in her chest did not ease. “When did you get back? I hadn't heard you'd returned.” 

“Last night,” she said numbly. “I got back last night.” 

“Then your mission was a success?” 

“Yes, it was.” 

“Good.” He brushed past Sakura, moving towards the counter. “You'll excuse us, won't you, Sakura?” 

Sakura forced her gaze to meet his. Understanding passed between them, a brief moment of clarity, and Sakura's world shattered. Her eyes filled with tears and her lip trembled, but she nodded and turned away without shedding a tear, leaving the shop and Ino's parents to their grief. 

***

He stared out the window of his hospital room, watching the sun sink beyond the forest and the final rays of its light shrink from the world.

Lee felt its absence the way he felt his strength coursing through him for the first time in weeks: raw and all-consuming. His cast had finally been removed—replaced by a brace to keep him from overdoing it too soon—and the Hokage, unable to justify keeping him sedated any longer, had ceased administering the drugs that had kept him weak. He would be discharged in the morning after one final exam and to ensure the relaxants hadn't done any lasting damage. Despite the strength rushing through him again and the clarity of mind he now had without the drugs, he felt as though he were in a fog as he stared unseeing at the creeping darkness on the horizon; try as he might, he couldn't shake whatever had unsettled him. He glanced to the chair at his bedside, the one he thought of as the Kazekage's even though Gaara had not been to visit him for going on a week. The pack Tenten had reluctantly brought him was filled with all the necessary things for a secret rescue mission; a new suit, vest, and pair of legwarmers were draped over the back of the chair, and another set of weights sat on the floor. He had everything he could possibly need, but he could not find the resolve to carry through with his plan. It wasn't because of the look on Tenten's face as she'd handed him his things and whispered a broken, "Good luck" before rushing from the hospital, unable to watch him leave again; nor was it the heavy silence that hung around Neji as he listened intently for Lee to leave. He stared at his things, sitting in the Kazekage's chair, and the memory of his last conversation with Gai rose, unbidden like bile. _"If I die in this war, then you must live on. Do not forget what it means to be happy."_ Tears burned at the memory and his heart clenched in his chest. He shut his eyes, as if that could block out the memory and remind him of the determination he'd desperately clung to after the Kazekage's last visit. He'd thrown himself head first into the idea that if he just acted happier, acted more upbeat; if he just acted as though he believed, then he would be unstoppable in his quest to save Gai-sensei, but as the days dragged by, slow and wretched, everything began to slip away from him. It fell from his grasp as guilt-ridden dreams took hold of him and Gai-sensei's words dogged even hi waking moments. 

_"Forge your own path in the Springtime of Youth. That is what you must do.”_

Lee opened his eyes, glancing at the reflection of his things in the window.

This had felt like the only path left for him to take since he'd awoken in Konoha to the reality that his sensei was gone; it had felt like giving up on this resolution would be giving up on everything his sensei had ever taught him. Now, in the darkness of his hospital room with his strength returned, the message of Gai-sensei's final speech finally took hold: Lee was a man now and it was time he forged his own path. 

Even as the realization that he couldn't go settled in him, it still felt all wrong, as though he were trying to open a door with the wrong key. How could he move forward if Gai-sensei wasn't there watching him? How could he make a new path for himself if his sensei wasn't there for him to ask for guidance from time to time? If he turned his back on this mission, wouldn't he regret it for the rest of his life? 

Lee had come to a standstill, motionless as he'd never been before in his life. He couldn't bring himself to move forward because none of the options left to him made any sense: forsake Gai-sensei for an unknown future or try to save a man who was more than likely dead. If Lee ventured out to save Gai-sensei then he might never come back; and if he did come back, he might come back empty handed, and then what would he do? Would forging his own path count if it was the only option he had? Would he be as true to that path as he had been to the path Gai-sensei had taught him? 

And if he didn't try, if he moved forward into an unknown future and gave up on saving Gai-sensei completely, could he be the shinobi he wanted to be, the shinobi Gai-sensei had believed he could be with such regret and self-loathing? 

Lee sighed heavily, turning to his things with finality. Neji tilted his head in Lee's direction. 

“You're going then?” 

Lee felt his resolve cracking, but he clenched his hands into fists, taking in a deep breath. “I have to. Even if I fail...” 

“At least you tried.” 

“Thank you for understanding.” 

Neji nodded. “Be careful, Lee. I don't want to lose you too.” 

“I will do my utmost best,” Lee promised, and though he didn't feel invested in it and though Neji couldn't see it, he gave a thumbs up. 

Neji snorted. “Don't put on airs, Lee. It doesn't suit you.” 

Lee frowned, glancing out the window again. The streets of Konoha had been unnaturally quiet of late, most villagers choosing to head indoors after the sun had set, as though they could feel the eyes of the enemy on them even through the walls of the village. In the distance, he could see a small group approaching the hospital from the main road. They stood out, even in the darkness, the only ones daring enough to walk the streets under the moonlight. 

Lee spoke softly, as though whispering would keep him in the moment a little bit longer.“I should change. It is already dark. I do not want to delay much longer.” 

Neji's silence sounded like disappointment to Lee. He tried not to dwell on it, picking up his suit. It felt heavier than his weights ever had and the soft fabric felt like an abrasion against his skin rather than the comforting warmth it usually offered.

"Is this the right decision?" he asked. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Neji thought. Perhaps he wasn't asking Neji, maybe he was hoping Gai-sensei's wisdom would still reach him from thousands of miles away. He swallowed at the thought of Gai-sensei, fresh tears burning his eyes. 

"Lee," Neji said, voice thick with emotion he usually didn't express. 

"I feel so weak," Lee admitted, his voice as feeble as he felt. He laughed, broken and fragile, like a chipped cup teetering at the edge of a counter, waiting to fall. He couldn't look at Neji any longer, and he turned back to the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass and closing his eyes tight against his own emotions. 

"Gai-sensei wouldn't want this for you," Neji spoke into the silence after what felt to Lee like a lifetime of quietly letting his tears fall. 

Lee's throat hurt with the effort it took for him not to sob. "I-I know," he admitted. "I know, Neji. I know." 

He didn't know what else to say, how else to admit that he was simply to weak to let go of his sensei. Shame curled up inside him, festering like a wound, and he hated himself even more knowing as he did that this went against Gai-sensei's last wishes. 

"If you go," Neji said carefully, "I won't think less of you, but I wish you wouldn't." 

Lee pressed his lips together, feeling the claws of his sadness at his throat so viscerally he almost gasped. He took in a ragged breath, opened his eyes, and the gasp he had been suppressing came unbidden, a cry so desperate it ripped from him and unsettled the stillness of the room. His suit slipped from his hands, puddling at his feet as he stared with wide, watery eyes out the window at the Kazekage and the shinobi following behind him.

“Lee?” Neji said, pushing his bedding aside and rising to his feet. 

Words were beyond Lee. All he could manage was a shake of his head, watching numbly as the Kazekage led the group towards the hospital. Neji's footsteps echoed behind him, but Lee barely registered the sound as he stared, awestruck out the window. The Kazekage's gaze flickered to his window, catching Lee's eyes despite the darkness within his room. There was electricity in that look; a gravity that pulled at Lee; a fire that burned through his veins and went right to his heart. He sucked in a breath, watching as Gaara and the others disappeared from sight as they entered the hospital. 

Something in Lee snapped and he let out a broken, relieved sob. He turned abruptly, running into Neji and toppling them both over. 

“Lee, what the hell is wro—”

“It is Gai-sensei,” Lee said quietly, not daring to believe it. “He is back. The Kazekage brought him back.” 

***

The walls of Konoha were lined with the usual surplus of guards, Konoha's own shinobi and Suna alike standing watch over the village. The sun setting behind the trees cast long shadows against the gates, like bony hands endlessly reaching for what was beyond the walls of the village. Kichirou's vision swam, making the shadows of the trees melt into the bold characters painted on the heavy wood of the gates. He was at his limit, fading in and out of consciousness with more and more frequency. It was a miracle he had survived as long as he had. The injuries amongst their small band had weighed them down, setting them back days, but Gai's critical state had been the worst of it, forcing them to move at the rate of civilians.

The poison coursing through his veins was not so quick, fortunately, but he could feel it burning through his veins, and every step he took was like walking on knives.

“We'll have to go through the gates,” Sayuu said, her voice a strange echo in Kichirou's ear. She adjusted his weight against her, shifting to look to Kakashi.

“It won't be easy,” Kakashi said, glancing back at them. “They'll assume the worst.” 

“I don't think they know what the worst truly is,” Sayuu intoned. Kichirou blinked blearily up at the gates, his head spinning as he listened to their conversation. Their mission wasn't truly over, not until they'd made it into Konoha. It was one more hurdle that he wasn't sure he could make.

Sayuu adjusted him again, nudging his head. “Keep your eyes open.” 

He groaned, forcing himself to comply. “A-awake. I'm—we—the Kazekage. Have to go. Report to him.” 

“We'll go to the hospital first, assuming they let us through,” Sayuu said sternly. Kichirou was too weak and delirious to argue. 

As they approached the gate, the guards along the wall began to stir. In the dim glow of the torches on the battlements, Kichirou could make out their blurry shapes as they scurried to and fro, pointing and gesturing. 

“Stay where you are!” a deep voice said. 

They stopped as one, Kakashi falling into a tense stance, readying to bolt over the wall with his ailing friend. Kichirou distantly admired his loyalty to Maito Gai, but the thought was chased away by the man who'd landed before them. 

“Well, this is a surprise,” he said. 

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “Let us pass.” 

“You don't have authorization.” 

“Let us pass,” Kakashi repeated, his voice a dangerous thrum. 

“I'm impressed to see you lot alive. Going off on an unauthorized mission, tsk, tsk.” 

Yana spoke from Kichirou's other side, startling him from his hazy contemplation of the guard blocking their way. “We don't answer to you.” 

“I'm the Captain of the Guard,” the man said, “which means if you want entrance into this village, you do.” 

Sayuu shifted until she was supporting Kichirou with only one arm, tensing every muscle in her body. Kichirou felt her muscles move against his like a snake coiling to strike. The Captain of the Guard's gaze snapped to Sayuu, his green eyes flashing in the dying light. “Now, now, we're comrades, we don't need to fight. But it's my job to ensure the safety of Konoha. I can't just let anyone into the village.” 

“We're not just anyone! We're your allies,” Yana snapped. “We're injured and two of our number are near death. You must let us pass.” 

“I wasn't aware that you were in charge, foreigner.” 

Yana sneered.

“Find the Kazekage. He'll vouch for us.” 

“Ah,” the man said, filling that single sound with satisfaction so thick it practically dripped from his mouth. “Well, fortunately, the Kazekage doesn't have that kind of authority in this village. He never has and the Hokage has made sure to put him in his place. So I don't think the Kazekage can help you now. And the Hokage—well, she's not likely to want traitorous shinobi in her village. And that one—” He gestured sharply to Gai, still unconscious on Kakashi's back. “Well, he could be dead. How am I supposed to know he's alive after all he's been through?” 

Kakashi's gaze narrowed further. “He's as alive as any of us. Perhaps more so,” he said lowly. “A bit of torture isn't going to kill someone like Maito Gai.” 

The Captain of the Guard threw his head back and laughed. “You're so certain? And I should take your word? You took orders from another Kage, why should I trust what you have to say?” 

Kakashi's silence was laced with furry.

The captain sighed, shaking his head as though he were scolding children. “I should throw you all in prison. The Hokage could release you in the morning—assuming those two survive the night. That's some poison, isn't it?” 

Kichirou, delirious as he was, snapped to attention. He focused his gaze on the man before them, eyes narrowing. “N-nothing I can't handle.” 

“Really? Well, then I suppose a night in prison won't kill you.” 

The temperature rose without warning, the cool summer breeze gone in an instant, and then in a gust of hot wind and a burst of sand the Kazekage appeared behind the Captain of the Guard, his eyes flashing wildly in the rising moonlight. “You've kept my people long enough.” 

The Captain of the Guard tensed, glancing back at Gaara. He took in the Kazekage's appearance, waited a beat, then bowed. “Forgive me, Kazekage-sama,” he sneered. “But it is my duty—”

“You are relieved of this task. I will take it from here. Open the gates!” 

The heavy creaking of the gates slowly opening followed shortly after. The Captain of the Guard watched with narrow eyes as they followed the Kazekage into the village. Kichirou could barely move his legs, could barely keep his eyes open or form a coherent thought, but he would not forget the Captain of the Guard anytime soon.

“Thank you, Kazekage-sama,” Sayuu said stiffly. She was as taught as a string about to snap, but Kichirou felt only relief. They were finally inside the village, they had completed their mission at long last. 

The Kazekage nodded stiffly, but he did not speak to them as they made their through the village. He led them swiftly from the gates into the heart of Konoha—it was a familiar route to Kichirou now: they were going to the hospital. He let out a heavy sigh that turned into a hacking cough, blood dribbling down his chin. A night in prison would most certainly have been the death of him, and if he'd died in the Hokage's prison cells then Madara's plans would hardly matter. Suna and Konoha would be facing a civil war within the walls of the village, and the enemy could sit back and watch them destroy themselves. 

The hospital was too bright and spots danced in Kichirou's eyes as they entered the lobby. He winced, closing them and turning his head into Yana's neck, groaning.

“You,” the Kazekage barked. “I need a room immediately. My shinobi are injured and Maito Gai needs immediate attention.” 

“Maito—Maito Gai?” someone asked. 

The sand in the Kazekage's gourd hissed. Kichirou regretted not having his eyes open as the medics in the lobby burst into action, hurrying to comply with the Kazekage's orders. Shouting filled the lobby, followed by the sound of wheels squeaking quickly down the hall and muttered questions that Kichirou couldn't make out. Before he could make sense of what was happening, he was being placed onto a gurney and rolled away. He turned his head, barely able to open his eyes to watch the Kazekage walking briskly beside him, his teammates following, flanking his bed as Kakashi followed just behind, beside another gurney. 

He and Gai were wheeled all the way down the hall, then through double doors that banged open and close as they went through. Kakashi and Gai were led away from him, down a different hall. Finally, Kichirou's gurney came to a stop in another brightly lit room, the smell of herbs and antiseptic even stronger now. He turned his head, seeking out his teammates and the Kazekage as the medics around him began speaking to one another in hushed tones. Hands poked and prodded at him, a rough grip touched his injured arm and he let out an anguished cry that he hadn't known he'd had the energy for. 

“—beyond repair—” someone said above him. 

“I've never seen anything like it.”

“We'll need samples of the poison.” 

“—need to amputate immediately. We need a sedative over here!” 

The moments passed in a blur of whispers and shuffling, the Kazekage standing just out of the way of the medics, watching with narrowed eyes and a scowl on his face. The gourd was silent and still, like the calm before the storms in the desert. Kichirou stared at the Kazekage, his vision getting hazier as the minutes passed. A sharp prick against his good arm did not pull him from his contemplation of his village's leader. Something passed through his veins, a gentle intrusion that stung as something swept through him. Another prick and tubes passing beside him began to fill with the deep red of blood. His vision began to waver, his eyes dropping closed. The voices began to grow father away.

He tried to stay conscious—he still had to report what they'd learned on their mission to the Kazekage, he couldn't die, not yet—but something pulled him down, something heavy and impossible to fight. As Kichirou slipped into darkness, the last thing he was aware of were the doors to the operating room banging open and an angry voice shouting, “KAZEKAGE!” 

***

“Are you sure?” Neji asked. 

Lee nodded, fighting back the hysterical sobs that wanted to pour from him. “I—it was absolutely him. Absolutely! I know it was. Kakashi-sensei had him on his back! It was definitely him!” 

“Kaka—I thought you said the Kazekage—what did you see?” 

“It was the Kazekage! They were following him,” Lee explained in a rush, rising to his feet and helping Neji up from the floor. “He was leading the shinobi who accompanied us to Suna—Kichirou-san and his teammates—and Kakashi-sensei!” 

“This doesn't make any sense, Lee,” Neji said, voice serious. 

Lee shook his head, moving towards the door. “The Kazekage must have sent them to rescue Gai-sensei,” he said matter-of-factly. “It is the only logical explanation. Kakashi-sensei must have gone with them because he could not let his rival die!” 

“This just—why would the Kazekage do that?” 

Lee paused at the door, listening for any sound on the other side. He could not begin to fathom what had motivated the Kazekage, didn't even know when he'd ordered the rescue, but the memory of their conversation—from what felt like a lifetime ago—down in the tunnels beneath Suna came to him like intuition and he smiled. “I believe he had faith,” he whispered, smiling softly. “The faith the Hokage did not have.” 

Neji huffed. “Faith isn't enough for him to send his own people off on a mission of this magnitude and you know that. And Kakashi—he's not a Suna shinobi! The Kazekage can't send him on missions.” 

“I am sure that did not matter to Kakashi-sensei.” 

“He defied the Hokage—”

“As I would do for you,” Lee snapped. “I do not care why he did it, Neji. I simply care that he did.” 

Hurried footsteps approached the room from the other end of the hall and Lee darted to his bed in a flash. He huffed when he realised Neji was still standing in the middle of the room, before quickly getting out of bed and nudging him back into bed. “Someone is coming,” he whispered. 

Neji grunted, batting Lee's hands away as he climbed into bed. “Stop it. I can get into bed on my own.” 

“Hurry!” he groaned. With a frantic squeak he realised that the things Tenten had brought were in plain view and he quickly threw them under his bed, before flopping down and closing his eyes. “Are you pretending to be asleep?” 

Neji snorted. “No, Lee.” 

“Neji!” 

The footsteps were too close now and Lee fell silent, rolling over and closing his eyes again just as the door slid open. 

“Ah, you're awake.” 

“I thought I heard a commotion,” Neji said. 

“Oh, it's nothing to worry about. I was just—just checking on you two. Is he sleeping?” 

“Like a rock. That noise is hardly enough to wake him up.” 

“Good, good,” the medic said softly. “Do you need anything?” 

“No, I'm fine.” 

“All right. Just—uh, have a good night!” The medic closed the door with a harried sounding clack.

A heavy silence filled the room, only disturbed by the sound of the medic's hurriedly retreating footsteps. After a moment, Neji snorted. “Gai's definitely back.”

“I told you!” Lee bolted up, kicking his sheets off and nearly buzzing as he clambered out of bed. “The Kazekage saved him! He—he saved Gai-sensei. I need to see him!” 

“You can't, Lee. He's probably unconscious or—”

“I meant the Kazekage. I need to speak with him.” 

“I'm sure he's busy, Lee. Don't bother him with this now.” 

Lee set his jaw, frowning severely. “I need to speak with him immediately. It is—this is something that cannot wait.” 

Neji sighed, shaking his head, but when he spoke he sounded resigned. “I doubt he's all that concerned with gratitude at the moment.” 

“This goes deeper than gratitude, Neji.” Lee glanced at his teammate, wishing he could meet Neji's gaze to impress upon him the gravity of the situation, the severity of what the Kazekage had done. “I cannot know why he did this, but I know that I owe him a huge debt. I—I had thought—” A sob bubbled up, but Lee quickly clamped down on it. He could not allow himself to cry over this any more. Gai-sensei was home, he was safe and alive and _home_. Lee had almost given up everything to rescue his sensei—he'd been so close to leaving, all he'd needed was a few more minutes and he'd have been gone. For so long his heart had not been within Konoha, broken and lost to the grief of his sensei's death—but now he could breathe easy again. He felt present and whole for the first time in weeks; the grief was still real, but distant now like a bad dream. Lee felt stronger, felt as though he had purpose again, felt as though he had firmly put his feet back on the ground and was no longer hovering over the precipice of unknown pain and possible death. 

Gai-sensei was back and with his return things felt clearer. 

“What are you planning, Lee?” Neji said as Lee reached for the door. 

Lee looked back at Neji and smiled. “I honestly do not quite yet know, but...I think I will know when I see the Kazekage. I just—this is something I must do.” 

Neji sighed. “Don't do anything foolish.”

Lee laughed and it felt so good that he laughed some more. “I would never.” 

Neji groaned as Lee slid the door open and disappeared down the hall, carefully making his way towards the stairwell. He waited, checking that no one was coming up it, then carefully made his way down the stairs, being as quiet as possible and keeping his ears pricked for any sounds. The hall below was a buzz of activity as people rushed back and forth, orders being shouted and hushed muttering in between. Lee waited, hoping for a moment when the hall wouldn't be full of bustling medics, minutes ticking by. 

As he waited silently, unconsciously keeping to the minimal shadows in the stairwell, he thought about what he would say to the Kazekage when he saw him. He came up blank. There were so many feelings surging through him that it was hard to parse through them and come up with the words he needed to express himself, the level of gratitude and the depth of his feeling—Lee had never been quite as good at flowery speeches as Gai-sensei, but he'd always managed. Except now he was completely lost for what to say. The words simply weren't there, as if the moment itself weren't happening; as if he were still standing in his hospital room, staring at his supplies, trying to decide on the path to take. Only now the paths were so unclear and muddled that Lee wasn't positive they were even there. Just as he wasn't positive this moment was happening—perhaps this was the dream, and he would wake to find that Gai-sensei was still gone.

A shout rang throughout the hospital, making him jump. Outside, the hall went silent as the Hokage's voice echoed. He chanced a quick glance beyond the door. The medics that were in the hall had frozen in place, staring towards a pair of double doors that had been knocked clean off their hinges, the Hokage framed by the doorway. 

Lee quickly ducked back into the stairwell, pressing himself into the corner between the door and wall, and going still. If the Hokage saw him out of bed right now no amount of stubborn obstinance could save him from her wrath. He held his breath without meaning to, focusing completely on keeping his heart and pulse rate from elevating, masking his presence as fully as he could. 

The medics in the hall began dispersing, moving from the hall like terrified mice running from a cat on the prowl. Lee watched shadows pass by, listening to footsteps as they faded. Two medics passed right by him, heading up the stairs to the next level without so much as glancing in his direction. 

Silence filled the hall, save for the dull echoing of activity coming from the operating room at the end. Lee took in a deep breath, shifted his legs and then at speed slipped from the stairwell and into the open room he'd spotted on his first look. He hadn't been training enough and his muscles were still recuperating from the relaxants Tsunade had insisted upon for his “safety”, but Lee was still faster than the untrained eye could spot and he made it without incident. 

The room, as it turned out, was a supply closet. He closed the door carefully, leaving it open just a crack so he could peer out into the hall without being spotted. 

In the silence that had followed, Lee could perfectly hear the Hokage's next words.

“Kazekage, I would like a word with you,” she said, her voice clipped and low. “Now.” 

“I have nothing to say to you, Hokage,” the Kazekage returned, voice even lower. 

“That's perfect, because I don't want to hear it,” snapped Tsunade. “I want you to listen and listen well. You're still in my village so if I tell you that I want a word, you had damn well better give me that word. Now, let's leave these nice medics to tend to the shinobi _you_ sent off on an unauthorized mission.”

Tsunade whirled around, sandals clacking loudly as she stomped down the hall. She turned, waiting for the Kazekage with clenched fists. “Move it.” 

Gaara stopped just on the threshold of the operating room, narrowing his eyes. He waved his hand, sand slithering from his gourd and recreating the doors that Tsunade had destroyed. “I will not be ordered around like some delinquent. If you wish to speak with me then you will do so as equals.” 

“What makes you think you can order me around, Kazekage? Have you forgotten that you're on probation?” 

Lee forced himself to remain quiet, but the news had taken him aback so much so that he'd nearly gasped. 

“I assure you, Hokage, I have not forgotten. It's difficult to forget being held hostage by an ally.” 

Tsunade's hand twitched. “Perhaps if you'd been less arrogant—”

“If you are only planning to disparage my character, Hokage, then I will gladly remove myself from your presence. You have made it quite clear what you think of me and I have no interest in wasting time going over it again.” 

“Then perhaps you'd like to explain to me what exactly you were doing ordering around my Captain of the Guard? You are not to give orders to my shinobi, Kazekage—you aren't even supposed to be in the presence of my shinobi without supervision—”

“I assure you, Hokage, there was plenty of supervision,” the Kazekage growled. “But given that the Captain of the Guard is now quite dead, I don't think he counts as one of yours so I didn't break any rules.” 

Tsunade took a step back. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Gaara tilted his head, eyes shifting around the hall. They fell briefly on the closet that Lee hid in, then slid past. He took a few steps closer, moving until he was standing next to the Hokage, dropping his voice low. 

“The shinobi on the wall in my services have reported strange behavior from the Captain of the Guard to me since my return. I assumed they were just unused to the ways of Konoha. However, when my team returned from their mission your captain would not let them in. I've had several of my ANBU keep watch on the gates for the past three days in anticipation of their return. I'd expected difficulties, but what I witnessed when I arrived on the scene—” He shook his head. “I would have detained him myself, but under the circumstances I did not think such a move would be wise.” 

Tsunade snorted. “You expect me to believe that the Captain of the Guard is working for the enemy? Simply because he was doing his job?” 

“Don't be a fool, Tsunade,” Gaara whispered. “He threatened the lives of my people, threatened the life of Maito Gai. He had knowledge of Kichirou's injury that he should not have had. Looking at Kichirou I would not have guessed he'd been poisoned, so how did your captain know?” 

“Perhaps he's simply a better shinobi than you,” Tsunade sneered. 

“You talk of arrogance, but you're too proud to listen to reason. Would you listen to my people if they told you the same thing? Would you listen to Kakashi? Gai and Kichirou are both near death, and your Captain was set on throwing them in prison for a night. Would you have allowed such a thing? Is belittling me so important?” 

Tsunade clenched her hands so tightly Lee thought she might strike the Kazekage, but the next moment she relaxed, deflating. “No,” she said softly. “No. I—I will consider what you've said, Kazekage. But you are still on dangerous ground. This mission—you're lucky Gai was brought back at all, let alone alive.” 

“I'm aware,” Gaara said dryly. “When he wakes, perhaps he can tell us what he knows. My people need a reprieve, but I've already been informed that things are much worse than we feared. I will let them rest tonight but tomorrow we should speak with Yana and Sayuu at length.” 

Tsunade eyed him carefully. “What have they told you?” 

“Kumo is as we feared,” Gaara said, lowly. “And Madara was there. They did not have the chance to tell me much before you arrived, but Yana made it clear that we need to meet Madara in battle soon.” 

“Dammit,” Tsunade cursed. “You're going to be insufferable about this, aren't you?” 

Gaara tilted his head. “About being right?” 

“Yes.” 

The Kazekage regarded Tsunade briefly, then brushed past her. “Of all the things to be right about, this is hardly something I'm happy about. But perhaps you'll keep it in mind the next time we're in a meeting and I make a suggestion, Hokage.” 

Tsunade jerked her head. “I still can't forgive you for sending one of my men out there on what could have been a suicide mission.” 

“Perhaps you could at least find the grace to forgive my people, Hokage. These reparations—”

“What would you have me do? We're strapped! Konoha is barely getting by on what few imports we had before Pein attacked us. The village was decimated and then you show up nearly dead with the entirety of your village—I've done my best to keep it from the public, but Konoha will not survive the aftermath of this war without those reparations.” 

“Then you would damn my people?” Gaara snarled. “You would punish us for needing your help?” 

“You were the one who spoke out of turn, Kazekage. You stepped out of line—”

“And thank the gods, I did! You would have led us to ruin if not for my intervention!” 

“We can't know that for sure,” Tsunade said steadily. “I will not be moved on this matter, Kazekage. I will level with you, perhaps only half the reparations, but that is the most I can do for you.” 

Gaara stared at the Hokage, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a tight line. “This alliance of ours is breaking, Tsunade.” 

“Yes,” she agreed. “It appears it is.” 

The Kazekage moved away, walking further down the hall. He stopped before the closet Lee hid in. Even as he begged the Hokage for mercy on his village, Lee could not help but think of the power that resonated within him. Though Gaara was shorter than Lee, he stood tall and imposing with his gourd slung over his back, his gaze firm and his expression lit by the florescent lights of the hospital—Lee felt electrified again as something clicked.

Gaara's gaze flicked to the sliver of open space in the doorway, catching Lee's eyes briefly. “If the alliance fails between our villages, Suna will not continue to pay your reparations, Hokage.” 

“Suna will have no choice,” Tsunade countered, voice hard. 

“You cannot keep us weak,” Gaara returned. “Suna's people are used to the harshness of the desert and your Will of Fire is wavering. Your people are good, many of them knew this was the wrong choice. I do not want another war, but I will not allow you to take advantage of my people.” 

“Is that a threat, Kazekage?” 

“It is a promise, Hokage. I will not be taken lightly simply because I am young. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to take care of.” 

“Oh, yes, forgive me,” Tsunade said sarcastically. “I'd forgotten all the important business you must have running a village that no longer exists.” 

The Kazekage closed his eyes and let out a careful, controlled breath. “Good evening.” 

Tsunade clenched her jaw, then turned away, heading down the hall towards the operating room. Gaara waited a beat before heading towards the exit. Lee let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, watching the Kazekage's retreating back. He straightened to his full height, lifting his chin in determination, and slid the door to the closet open. He wasn't presentable now that he thought about, still in his hospital robes, a brace on his leg, a few cuts still visible on his hands and the gash on his face now a pink scar—but it was now or never. He couldn't turn back, he needed to follow this feeling to its end, whatever that might be. 

The medics in the lobby paid Lee no mind, instead keeping their noses down, reading over clipboards or filling out paperwork. The Kazekage was already outside, standing just beneath the cover of the hospital. He stepped away from the building, moving down the gravel path towards the main street. Lee quickly raced towards the exit, yanking the doors open and rushing out into the cool summer night. 

“Kazekage-sama!” Lee called, his voice breaking with contained emotion. 

Gaara was standing in the middle of the path, staring up at the sky. “Lee.” 

That feeling tugged at Lee, pulling him forward. He stepped onto the path, his eyes rooted to the Kazekage's back, his red hair, his gourd. It was easy to forget that the Kazekage had been permanently disabled by just looking at him, especially in that moment. He stood proudly before Lee, as though the weight of his gourd didn't bother him at all. Lee knew how heavy that gourd could be, how much of a burden it had become for the Kazekage; yet Gaara looked nothing short of regal and powerful. The light from the moon was illuminating, and Gaara stood at just the right angle to it so that he made an impressive silhouette. Lee swallowed, his eyes filling with tears.

“You saved Gai-sensei,” he finally said, the weight of his feelings overwhelming him. It was not the start of a beautiful speech by any means, but he was too overcome by the emotions roiling like thunder within him for such pros.

Gaara was silent, but he turned his head just enough so he could glance at Lee over his shoulder. His eyes shone in the moonlight, brilliant jade like the stones that Lee kept on his bedside table. He caught the Kazekage's gaze with his and did not look away. 

“Is that what I did?” Gaara asked, his voice soft. 

“Yes." Lee's heart was in his throat and his voice caught on it again, a hitch and a breathy whispered affirmation that might have been lost on the breeze for how soft he'd spoken. 

Gaara turned away. “His injuries are severe, Lee. I don't know if I did him any favors.” 

Tears spilled down Lee's cheeks and he quickly wiped them away. “That is beside the point, Kazekage-sama.” 

Gaara shifted. “What is your point then?” 

“I do not know, exactly,” he said, stalling as he tried to find the words he needed. They were as illusive as they had been as he'd hidden out in the stairwell. “I thought—” He shook his head. “I needed to speak with you. You did save him, after all. Whether or not he liv-lives—you saved him, you brought him home. You had faith.” 

Gaara's mouth twitched. “Faith... Why is that so important to you?” 

Lee frowned. “Because it is all I have to offer.” 

“Offer?” 

The path before Lee was hard and uncomfortable, and his leg still ached, but he got down on his knees and pulled his legs beneath him as he bowed, dropping his head low enough that his hair brushed the gravel. “I will not pretend that you did this for me, Kazekage-sama. I understand that you would not have done this if you did not believe it was the right thing to do, if you did not think it was necessary. However, I cannot overlook your actions. You saved Gai-sensei and, in doing so, saved me.

“Tonight, I was planning on leaving the village to find him. I was already packed and ready to abandon my post; ready to forsake everything I have worked so hard for. I do not know if I would have succeeded—in fact, I am sure it would have cost me everything including my life. It is because of you that we have both been saved.” Lee swallowed thickly, fresh tears falling to the dirt. He closed his eyes, taking in a steadying breath. “There are no words to express the depth of my gratitude, Kazekage-sama.” 

Gravel crunched as Gaara stepped forward and Lee looked up into his face, meeting his gaze. The Kazekage's expression was inscrutable, so smooth and still he looked like a statue in the light shining from the hospital behind Lee.

“I do not need you to say this, Lee. I know what this means to you.” Gaara's voice was softer than a whisper, soft enough that it might have been the gentle summer breeze blowing.

Lee shook his head. “Forgive me, Kazekage-sama, but I do not think you do. All my life I have been considered incapable and useless. When I was young I was unimpressive and no one thought I could make it as a shinobi. I worked hard, but it was not enough—I was not enough. But Gai-sensei gave me purpose; Gai-sensei had faith in me and that gave me the strength to have faith in myself. He is the reason I am as strong as I am; he is the reason I am worth anything as a shinobi. After everything we have been through I had not thought about the possibility of living without him guiding me and watching me become a splendid ninja. 

“You protected that bond, Kazekage-sama, and nothing I can say or do will ever come close to repaying you—”

“I don't want repayment—”

“But I will try my best,” Lee continued on, louder now. He closed his eyes, bowing low again. “Please, Kazekage-sama, accept me.” 

Silence stretched for a long moment, disturbed only by the sound of Gaara's shifting feet on the path. “I have always accepted you, Lee.” 

Lee shook his head, lifting his gaze to the Kazekage's face. “I would offer myself in payment of my debt to you. I know I am not remarkable. I know I am not a genius, but I am a good shinobi and a hard worker. If you would accept me, I would protect you as you protected my sensei and I would serve you as if I were of Suna.” 

“Do you know what you're saying?” Gaara asked, breathless and wide-eyed.

Lee met his gaze, hypnotized by the way the moon had haloed him in its white light. His shadow fell across the path before Lee, the edges of it just out of reach. “Yes, Kazekage-sama. I am saying that I want to be yours. I am saying that until my debt is repaid, in this life or the next, I will be at your side.” He looked up into the Kazekage's confused face, jaw squared in determination. “Please, Kazekage-sama, accept me.” 

Gaara regarded Lee, his eyes narrowed and a furrow between his brow. “You didn't think this through,” he said, his tone suddenly harsh. “You heard what the Hokage and I said. The alliance is fragile. It may not survive this war. What would you do if Konoha and Suna went to war? Would you give yourself completely to me, to my cause? Or would you waver and stay true to your village?” 

Lee blanched, pushing himself up slightly. “I—I did not think—”

“No, you did not,” he snapped, turning from Lee. “What would possess you to make such a request?” 

“I am hot-blooded,” he said, sheepishly. He shook himself, sitting up straighter. This was not the time to be any less than proud of what he was. “I _am_ reckless, as you know, Kazekage-sama, but you have had faith in me all this time.” 

“You are not what concerns me, Lee. I am the Kazekage: my responsibility is to my village and my people. What happens if Tsunade's pigheadedness ruins the alliance we've built? What happens if our villages go to war? What would you do?” 

Lee was silent, staring up at the Kazekage's profile, more determined than he could ever remember being in his life. He couldn't deny that the possibility of war between Suna and Konoha, even after what he'd heard, had not seemed like a possibility to him. It was just like Gai-sensei's death: it was a reality that he could never see even when it was staring him right in the face. But even if he had considered it, he was sure he would still have made this choice. It had called to him as he'd stood in his hospital room, begged him to wait a little longer; it had shocked him when he'd stared into Gaara's jade-green eyes from his hospital window; it had spurned him from his room and brought him running down the halls to find Gaara. Every infinitesimal moment had been leading him here. It was as much fate as anything ever was.

“I do not know what I would do, Kazekage-sama,” he said truthfully. “I did not think this through, but I know this is right. This is what I want more than anything now. So I will just have to have faith in you and in my village.” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes, glancing back to Lee. “Can you have faith in your Hokage?” 

Lee felt a surge of forgotten anger rush through him. Tsunade hadn't had faith in any one of them, she'd sent them off on a mission doomed to fail, she'd drugged Lee to keep him weak, and she'd refused to send anyone to look for his sensei. Gaara had been kind, gentle but firm, and he'd sent his own people to save someone he had no ties to. Lee didn't need to have faith in the Hokage because Gaara had it in spades. 

“After everything she has done,” Lee said, his voice shaking with suppressed rage, “no, I cannot. When I became a shinobi it was under a different Hokage, and someday in my lifetime I am sure we will see new leadership. I will always serve Konoha, but Hokage-sama no longer has my trust. I would not waste my energy on her.” 

“You speak boldly.” 

“I speak truthfully, Kazekage-sama, as I always have and always will.” He clenched his hands in his lap, meeting Gaara's gaze, almost pleading. “I do not have faith in the Hokage, but I have faith in you.” 

Gaara's expression faltered briefly, confusion widening his eyes a fraction. “Why, Lee? Why put your faith in me?” 

“Because I have seen your heart, Kazekage-sama.” 

“What?” 

“You are a good person,” Lee clarified. “When we were in the desert and you asked me to abandon everyone if the worst came to pass, I knew I would not have to. I knew that we would all make it through that mission because you would not let anything happen to us. And in the tunnels, when I saw you cry for the people you could not save...I was moved by the feeling you had for them. You are kind and caring, you work so hard for your village. You have such love for your people, Kazekage-sama, and it is that love that saved them when Suna was attacked. You may be a great shinobi, but you are an even better leader and I have been honored to serve at your side during this war. I would be even more honored to stay by your side and in your services.” 

“This is foolish, Lee,” Gaara said, taking a step forward. 

Lee sighed, looking down. “I know, but I ask you to consider.” 

“Have you considered this? At length? Gai has only just been returned to the village, Lee. You cannot have had long to think about this. It seems rash.” 

“It is rash,” Lee agreed. “As I said, I am hot-blooded and reckless. I have always listened to my heart—perhaps it seems foolish to others, but it has never led me astray.” 

Gaara sighed, turning away from Lee. “You are a fool, Lee.” 

Lee's shoulders slumped, eyes burning with fresh tears. He should have known that the Kazekage would never want someone like him standing at his side. Perhaps this was the one time his heart had led him down the wrong path; perhaps in his determination to become the man his sensei believed he could be, the man he wanted to be, he'd made the wrong choice. 

The Kazekage's shadow fell across him. “Perhaps,” he said so softly Lee would have missed it if not for the silence around them. “Perhaps, I am also a fool.” 

Lee's head snapped up, his eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. He stared up at Gaara, in mute surprise, his heart constricting with joy. The Kazekage tilted his head, his brow gently creased and the corners of his mouth turned down subtly, but when he met Lee's gaze his expression relaxed into soft, warm acknowledgement.

“I accept you, Lee.”

Lee's face broke into a smile, a few stray tears sliding down his cheeks. “Arigatougozaimasu, Kazekage-sama,” he said thickly, wiping his eyes. 

Gaara hummed. “You should return to bed, Lee. I do not want the Hokage to find you out of bed swearing fealty to me. I do not think her blood pressure could take it,” he said lightly, a small smile on his face. “Besides, I have things to attend to. I will speak with you more tomorrow.” 

“Hai, Kazekage-sama,” Lee said, sniffling despite himself. He quickly rose to his feet, straightening to his full height. “I promise, I will not fail you.” 

Gaara regarded him carefully. “The thought never occurred to me.” 

Lee smiled so wide it hurt and his chest felt as though it might burst at any moment as he met Gaara's gaze. "Thank you.” 

Gaara turned away, that small smile just a fraction wider. “Go to bed, Lee.” 

“As you wish, Kazekage-sama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this art piece that I had commissioned back in 2011 for the last scene of this fic! You can find the original posting [here](http://www.deviantart.com/art/GaaLee-202240093), or you can find it on tumblr! Conveniently there is a blog or the Allied Nations Saga which you should [follow for updates](http://thealliednationssaga.tumblr.com/), to ask me questions, or to see art for this fic! Also, [here's the image of just Lee](http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sparkly-Lee-208903242) and [here's the one of just Gaara!](http://www.deviantart.com/art/Gaara-208903121)


	15. Slip of the Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets have a funny way of coming to light, no matter how hard one tries to keep them. During times of war, discovered secrets are often a matter of life or death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back from hiatus! I can't believe this fic is almost fully posted for everyone to read. It is so weird to think that 7+ years ago I'd just started. I certainly didn't plan for it to take _this_ long but well, that's life. And this fic was worth the wait (at least, I think so). During the editing process, previously posted chapters were edited, and there will be another brief hiatus next month for further edits on the remaining chapters! This may result in major edits to already posted chapters, so keep that in mind! 
> 
> I have a [posting schedule](http://lovelyloonylovegood.tumblr.com/post/169608569913/2018-writing-update-schedule) up on my tumblr, so feel free to check it out if you wanna know when this will be updated and for other projects! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for waiting so patiently for an update! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The Captain of the Guard had submitted a report immediately after the Kazekage had overruled him at the gates. Tsunade found it the next morning sitting on her desk, but after a long and stressful night trying to stabilize Gai, she let the report sit untouched for the first several hours of her day, while she focused on more pressing matters: there were reports from the medics working on developing extra serum, as well as from Sakura, who had taken it upon herself to train shinobi in the use of the serum. After the medical teams' reports, she went over the Nara clan's most recent request for specialty weapons that could store their chakra for use by others. It was another incredible request on top of a mountain of requests that needed to be filled for things Tsunade simply didn't have. 

Hours later, when she needed a reprieve from the daunting task of granting or denying requests, she took up the nearly-forgotten report. Guilt and frustration curled in her stomach as she remembered the feel of Gai's life slipping from her grasp before she'd finally managed to stabilize him. If she'd allowed the mission in the first place, if she'd worked with the Kazekage instead of against him this report wouldn't be here. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, allowing herself a moment of self-pity before she shook it off and opened the report.

 _Gate Watch Log: 0100 // 7月20日_  
_Watchman: Captain Nakamura Nobuo Rank: Jounin  
At approx. 0100 hours Gate Watch became aware of unknown persons approaching the village. Due to the late hour, as captain, I chose to approach the new arrivals alone. Once contact was made, the apparent allegiances of the five individuals was revealed: three of the shinobi were Suna ANBU, one of whom was severely injured. All three ANBU were hostile and unwilling to answer basic questions, increasing my suspicion of the new arrivals. The other two members of the party were easily recognizable as Hatake Kakashi and Maito Gai, the latter being unconscious and potentially deceased. Hatake Kakashi was as hostile as his companions, refusing to respond to questions or consent to verification of life, and unwilling to allow me near Maito Gai. Due to the uncooperative nature of the party, I was unable to confirm that they had not been compromised and, at approx. 0130 hours, the Kazekage arrived. The Kazekage was aggressive and refused to allow me to continue with basic safety measures, overruling my direct orders despite the risks present. The party was allowed to enter the village without hindrance, questioning, or confirmation of life at approx. 0145 hours._

Tsunade let out a long slow breath, the report crunching in her fist as her frustrations got the better of her despite her efforts to keep her anger in check. It was possible, she reasoned with herself, that she was allowing herself to be swayed. She and Gaara had been at each other's throats for so long now that she couldn't allow herself to jump to conclusions, and there were more reports from the gate watch to go over. Taking in a steadying breath, Tsunade smoothed out Nobuo's report and set it aside. She took a moment to collect herself, to set aside all biases, and then began reading the accounts from the other watchmen.

 _Gate Watch Log: 0100 // 7月20日_  
_Watchman: Akimichi Yoshi  
Rank: Chuunin At approx. 0100 hours a party of shinobi arrived at the gates of Konoha. Captain Nakamura confronted the group alone for the safety of the guards on duty. A discussion ensued wherein members of the party appeared confrontational, while Captain Nakamura attempted to keep them calm. At approx. 0130 hours the Kazekage arrived. He was overly aggressive. Words were exchanged and the Kazekage ordered the gates to be opened in direct opposition to Captain Nakamura's orders. The arrivals were not subjected to protocol, thus it is unclear if they are a threat to the village._

 _Gate Watch Log: 0100 // 7月20日_  
_Watchman: Kou Asami  
Rank: Jounin At approx. 0100 hours an unknown group arrived at the village gates. It was clear that two members of the party were severely injured. Captain Nakamura went to speak with the group. The two injured party members appeared unconscious and unresponsive. The three uninjured shinobi appeared hostile, refusing to submit to protocol. At approx. 0130 hours the Kazekage arrived. He was overly hostile and, after a brief discussion, the order was given to open the gates despite the fact that the new arrivals did not undergo life verification checks._

Page after page said the same thing. With fourteen accounts that all coincided with Nobuo's, Tsunade could only assume one thing: the Kazekage hadn't learned his lesson.

She grit her teeth, glaring down at the reports on her desk. There were more pressing matters than the Kazekage's insolence to tend to, and if she allowed herself to stew then their next meeting would prove more volatile than the previous night's encounter. Tsunade unclenched her jaw, forced herself to release the tension in her back, and let out a deep breath that escaped her in an angry huff. A headache was beginning to pound at the back of her head and it was sure to plague her all day, exacerbated by the sheer enormity of the Kazekage's blatant disrespect.

Grumbling to herself, but trying not to let her ire rise further, she began methodically organizing the fifteen reports before her. As she tapped them against her desk, an overlooked page slipped out of the stack. A red character at the top corner caught her eye and her pulse spiked for the briefest of moments, her mind offering up every horrible scenario it could as she took in the vibrant “urgent” at the papers corner. She'd checked Gai over; she'd checked Kichirou and Yana, too. They had been fine. Severely injured, but alive. She hadn't, however, thought to check Sayuu or Kakashi, and the anxiety that realization sparked in her made her hands shake as she picked up the report. 

_Gate Watch Log: 0300 // 7月20日_  
_Watchman: Nakamura Nobuo  
Rank: Jounin At approx. 0300 all nine Suna shinobi on duty were called to the Kazekage's rooms for unknown reasons. The changing of the guard commenced half an hour later, but no replacement shinobi arrived from Suna resulting in an extended watch for all willing participants. At approx. 0400 a message arrived from the Kazekage with explanation (see attached memo). At this time, the Kazekage has seen fit to remove his shinobi from active watch duty without reason. A request for more assistance at the gate is attached._

Tsunade, wide eyed and furious, lifted the report to see the attached message.

_All Suna shinobi, hereafter, will not report to watch duty by order of the Fifth Kazekage, Gaara of the Desert. Any shinobi from Suna on duty during this time will retire their post immediately._

The Kazekage's stamp of office was pressed into the thin paper at the bottom of the short missive, marking it as an official order from the highest office in Suna. A hot, angry flush rose, making her face burn. He was mocking her, challenging her; telling her, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn't a good enough Hokage to outmaneuver him. That she'd underestimated him and always would. She crushed the parchment in one shaking fist and rose from her seat, nostrils flaring. This was the last straw, the last offense Tsunade could take. The Kazekage had overstepped one too many times and, war or no, she wasn't going to let him get away with this. She tossed the report and its accompanying message onto her desk, marching from her office with purpose.

 _Damn the alliance,_ she thought. _And damn the Kazekage._

***

Lee had changed out of his hospital clothes and was sitting in the chair Gaara usually used, talking animatedly with his teammates. Tenten was sitting on Neji's bed, leaning against him, her eyes bright and a smile on her face. Gaara watched from the doorway as the three shared their joy over the news of Gai's return. He hadn't done it for sentimental reasons, but the knowledge that he had saved them all the grief of loss was stark and bright. It settled in his chest, a warm and radiant feeling that grew as he watched Lee laugh and smile without reservation for the first time in months; and when he looked at Neji and Tenten, and saw the smiles on their faces, he felt it solidify, as real as the gourd on his back. Most days, Gaara felt alien to the emotions of others; felt confused and distant, as though he were an interloper; felt the need to analyze and dissect each flicker of emotion that passed his awareness. But there was nothing complicated about the joy and relief of the three before him; there was nothing to parse through, no secrets to decipher. It was pure happiness, and Gaara felt more connected to it than he had thought he would; felt as though he were sharing in it, rather than intruding upon it. It was peculiar and disconcerting to feel linked to people he'd rarely ever spoken to, but Lee had effectively changed the status quo of Gaara's life; had irreversibly altered Gaara's world with only a few simple words.

Gaara still didn't understand what had compelled him to accept Lee's strange request. The question of it had hounded him all night, distracting him during his meeting with the shinobi on watch at the gates, and kept him from the rest of his work. He'd watched the sunrise at the top of Hokage monument, picking apart every word that had passed between himself and Lee that night, trying desperately to understand why, why, why—

Tenten laughed, her joy bubbling around her and tears spilling down her cheeks. Neji reached out, taking her hand in his and gently squeezing it.

Gaara gave the three one last, thoughtful glance and turned to leave. He would have time enough to spend with Lee later, time enough to figure out what his request had wrought, but right now Lee should be with his friends, basking in the moment. As he turned away, Lee stiffened, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. He glanced up at the partially open door and caught Gaara's gaze through the sliver of it that was open. His smile somehow brightened and he quickly rose from his seat, moving to the door. 

"Lee?" Tenten asked as Lee approached the door and slid it open. 

“Kazekage-sama.” Lee bowed far deeper than was necessary, still smiling for all he was worth.

“Lee,” Gaara returned, his mouth twitching up into a small smile of his own. 

“Good morning, Kazekage-sama!” Tenten sang, jumping from the bed and skipping to the door. Gaara watched her approach wary and unsure, thrown by her openness. “You are just the man I wanted to see.” 

Gaara frowned. “I am?” 

“It's come to my attention,” Tenten said seriously, “that you are the reason Gai-sensei is home.” 

Gaara stared blankly at her. “In part,” he said carefully. “But I am not the one who brought him home.” 

“You gave the order,” Tenten said, waving away these minor details. “Without that order, he'd be dead right now. I spoke with one of the medics tending to him already and they said that it was lucky he's even still alive. They doubt he'd have lasted another week.” 

“We owe you a great debt,” Neji agreed. 

“You owe me nothing,” Gaara corrected. “I did what I had to for the good of all our villages.” 

“We have already discussed this,” Lee chimed in, amusement coloring his voice. “The Kazekage will not accept our gratitude on the matter.”

Lee's words made Gaara want to laugh. He looked at Gaara as earnestly as he ever had, but there was a secret beneath his gaze; something precious and exciting, and entirely unorthodox. Gaara wondered if he'd told his friends of his promise yet. 

“There is no need to be indebted to me,” Gaara clarified, the hidden joke behind Lee's words now in his own. “I accept your gratitude, but I do not need more than that.” 

Lee's smile slipped a fraction, having missed the minor change in Gaara's tone. “But you still accept me, right?” 

“Accept you?” Tenten repeated. “What on earth are you talking about?” 

Gaara cast an arch look in Lee's direction. “You haven't told them.” 

Lee scuffed his foot across the floor, shrugging sheepishly. “It had not come up yet.” 

“Perhaps you are rethinking your decision—”

“Absolutely not!” Lee cried furiously, balling his hands into fists. “I am dedicated to keeping my promise and swearing myself to you, Kazekage-sama!”

“WHAT?!” Tenten stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed, her eyes darting back and forth between them. 

Neji sighed, heavy and resigned. “I told you not to do anything foolish, Lee.” 

Lee lifted his chin, holding his head high. “It is not foolish. This is the path I have chosen and I am absolutely sure it is the right path.” 

“Oh my—what the _fuck_ were you thinking?” Tenten snapped. “Please tell me you didn't encourage this, Kazekage-sama.” 

Lee bristled beside Gaara, his face turning slowly red. “Tenten! Your language!” 

“Shut up, Lee. Kazekage-sama, _please_ tell me you didn't agree to this.” 

“I did,” he said simply. “You could try to talk him out of it—” Lee whipped his head around to look at Gaara, his expression crumbling. “But I believe you would be wasting your breath. I am sure you are more familiar with his stubborn nature than I am.” 

“And what about you? Could we talk some sense into you?” 

“No.” Gaara met Tenten's determined gaze. For a moment, he thought she might try to out stare him—lesser men, men on his own council couldn't stand to look him in the eye—but after nearly a minute she whirled around, looking to Neji for support. 

“What the hell are we supposed to do with him?” 

Neji tilted his head towards them, his expression unreadable beneath the bandages over his eyes. He was quiet for a long minute, before saying, “We support Lee's decision, Tenten. That's all we can do.” 

“Neji." Lee's voice caught in his throat and he stepped forward. 

“I still think it's foolish, Lee,” he added. “But you've made your decision. If this is the path you want to take, then I won't stop you.” 

“But—the Hokage,” Tenten whined. “Neji, this is a terrible idea.” 

“It's not ours to judge, Tenten. Lee's our teammate, we have to support him.”

Tenten crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her lip out exaggeratedly. “Great, so we're just going to let Lee get thrown into prison?” 

“The Hokage won't do that,” Gaara interrupted, voice hard with reproach. “Determined as she is to make me suffer for my insolence, as she sees it, I do not think she would be so foolish as to put one of her best shinobi in prison in the midst of war.” 

Lee made an unexpected sound, like a stifled yell. “Ka-Kazekage-sama, you—do you really think I am one of the best shinobi in Konoha?” 

Gaara glanced at Lee, fighting against the urge to smile yet again. “I would not have accepted you into my services if I did not hold you in high regard, Lee.” 

Lee's eyes watered, but he wiped the tears away before any could fall. “Thank you, Kazekage-sama.” 

Gaara met Lee's intent gaze. Lee's eyes seemed impart a level of emotion that Gaara simply couldn't decipher, and the intensity of it and the confusion it brought made him look away. “I have things to attend to. I simply wanted to check on you.” 

“Could I accompany you?” Lee asked. “I have been discharged. We were just waiting to hear if Neji will be allowed to go home today as well.” 

“You don't have to.” Gaara glanced over his shoulder at Lee, but the look in his eyes hadn't changed. It was equal parts earnestness and determination, but Gaara had little idea as to what else Lee's gaze might mean. It would be something for him to discover as they journeyed down this path together. Gaara supposed he might as well get used to it; he imagined that now Lee would always look at him this way.

“I want to.” Lee made it seem like it was the easiest thing in the world, and maybe for him following Gaara was, but it was no less confusing for Gaara himself. “Unless it would inconvenience you," Lee added when Gaara, still too caught up in his own thoughts and emotions, did not respond. 

“No,” he said quickly. “I assumed you'd want to remain with your teammates—”

“It's fine,” Tenten said. She threw a cheeky grin Lee's way and added, “No offense, Lee, but it's really hard to get any action with you in the room.” 

Lee's face turned as red as a tomato and he spluttered, pointing at Tenten as she fell on the bed in a fit of giggles. Neji shook his head, his own cheeks tinged pink. 

“Very well,” Gaara intoned while Lee struggled to find words. "We should go now. I imagine my presence would also make it difficult to 'get action',” he added, reasonably.

Tenten went suddenly silent, her face turning just as red as Lee's before she began laughing loudly, tears running down her face. Lee was, if possible, redder than before. “When Gai-sensei wakes up, I am definitely going to tell him to give you two a talking to.” 

Tenten's laughter died instantly, replaced by a groan, and she grabbed Neji's hand. “I'm going to kill him, Neji. You better say good-bye to your best friend while you still have the chance.” 

Neji smiled, wrapping his arm around Tenten's waist. “You better go, Lee. I can't promise I can hold her off for long.” 

Lee shook his head, following Gaara into the hall. “You two had better behave! This is still a hospital!” He closed the door on the sound of their laughter, turning to Gaara. “Forgive their crudeness, Kazekage-sama.” 

Gaara shook his head, unconcerned. "Let's go.” 

“Where are we going, if you do not mind my asking?” Lee queried, walking just behind Gaara, as though he were a particularly loud and excitable shadow. 

“The Hokage and I are meeting with the team I sent to rescue Gai. Yana was injured while retrieving vital information on the mission, so she's still in the hospital.” 

“Oh,” Lee said. “Is—is Kichirou-san all right? He did not look so good when I saw him last night.” 

“He lost his arm, but otherwise he will recover. Though I believe he will be bedridden for some time.” 

Lee was quiet behind him, and when Gaara glanced back Lee was chewing his bottom lip, tears in his eyes and his thick eyebrows furrowed. “What's wrong?” 

“It is just that he was injured saving Gai-sensei and I—I feel guilty. It is unfair that he should lose an arm over this.” 

“There is no need to feel guilty. They did their duty to me, as you have sworn to do.” 

“Of course, Kazekage-sama, I just wish no one had been hurt.” 

“As do I, but this is war. Lives will be lost and people will get hurt. The only thing we can do is make every effort to ensure that the casualties are few in number. Kichirou knew the risks, and you should know that he supported my decision to rescue Gai. I doubted my motivations, but ultimately I knew it was right and Kichirou agreed with me.” 

Lee seemed mollified by this, though Gaara could sense that something still unsettled Lee. Knowing Lee as he thought he did, it was most likely the bluntness with which he spoke of the casualties that were still to come. If Lee were to fight in this war, however, he needed to accept the harsh reality of war.

"Can you accept that?" he asked, leveling Lee with a severe look. Lee lifted his gaze to meet Gaara's. 

"Yes, Kazekage-sama," he said with more sureness than Gaara had expected from him. "But I do hope that when Kichirou-san wakes, I can thank him properly for what he did. It cost him a great deal, and I would hate to ignore his sacrifice." 

"I am sure he would appreciate it, though I hope you're not planning to also swear yourself to him." A secret smile played at his lips, and Lee returned it with all the openness Gaara had become accustomed to from him. 

"It is enough that I am yours," he said, soft and delicate, as though the words themselves were made of the finest glass.

Gaara felt the warm contentment from earlier hum through him, and his smile felt as though it would never leave his face.

As they made their way to the floor below, which was quieter than it had been the night before though no less busy, he forced his attention back to the matter at hand and to the upcoming confrontation with Tsunade. Whispers followed them down the corridor, many medics staring as they made their way past. Gaara only noticed it distantly, the way he always noticed everything unimportant to him. Behind him, however, he could sense Lee's agitation as though it were his own.

“It is unimportant,” he murmured without looking back. 

“It is disrespectful," Lee countered. Gaara watched as a medic glanced at Lee and quickly averted his gaze. He glanced back to find Lee glaring fiercely after the man as he scurried past them. "You are the Kazekage and that is a position that demands respect. They should know better.” 

“I don't particularly care." He had long stopped caring what strangers thought of him, and Lee would need to get used to the stares and whispers because outside of Suna they were a near constant thing.

Lee huffed. “I care.” 

“Why? What does it matter what people say?”

“It matters. You have accepted me. As such it is my responsibility to defend and protect you in every way, even your name. Besides, even none of this had happened, you are still a good man.” 

Gaara stopped abruptly before the door to Yana's room, staring at Lee openly. He was not an expressive person by nature, but he felt as though he were open and vulnerable as he met Lee's gaze, and it was once again difficult to maintain eye contact for all the confusion Lee had wrought upon him. “You astound me. In less than twenty-four hours you have shown me more loyalty than nearly every member of my council. It took a year to build any sort of trust with my people, and another six months before any of my shinobi showed me half the loyalty you've just showed.” 

Lee blushed, straightening to his full height. “I take my promises seriously, Kazekage-sama. I would not have offered myself to you if I had not been fully committed.” 

Gaara shook his head, still a little wide-eyed with wonder. “I know, but it still astounds me.” 

Lee smiled. “I shall take that as a compliment.” 

Gaara regarded Lee for another moment before turning away and sliding open the door to Yana's room. Sayuu stood at the head of Yana's bed, quietly watching the Hokage who was waiting by the window, doing her best to ignore the room at large. Kakashi leaned against the wall opposite the bed and far from the Hokage with his book out, his visible eye roving the page. 

“Gaara, how nice of you to—Lee? What are you doing here?” 

Lee straightened, lifting his chin. “I am accompanying the Kazekage.” 

Tsunade narrowed her eyes, lip curling. “I'm fairly certain, _Kazekage_ , that your probationary restrictions were quite clear. You're not to consort with any of my shinobi without supervision—”

“Lee is an exception,” Gaara said lightly, removing his gourd and taking the seat at Yana's bedside, relieved to take the pressure off his ribs at last. 

“And what the hell makes you think there are exceptions to this?”

“Forgive me, but you should not speak that way to him, Hokage-sama,” Lee said, brazen and perhaps a bit foolishly. Gaara could not hide the small smile that came unbidden at Lee's words. The Hokage boggled at Lee, jaw working furiously as she tried to process the words she'd just heard. 

“What. Did you just say to me?” Her words were clipped and tight, mouth barely moving as she ground her teeth.

“With respect, Hokage-sama, the Kazekage is your equal and has proven that his judgment is sound—”

“I don't give a damn about his judgment. I want to know what the hell you think you're doing here speaking to me like that!” 

Lee stiffened, raising his chin in defiance. “As I said, I am accompanying the Kazekage on business.” 

Tsunade turned her glare on Gaara. “What the hell is this? You think because you saved one of mine that you can get away with bending the rules? Is this amusing to you? Bringing him here so you can rub it in my face how wrong I was? You're already on thin ice after that stunt you pulled, taking your men off gate watch! What more do I have to do before you stop this—this—” 

Gaara cut her off before she found whatever insult she was struggling to find. “I have no interest in rubbing anything in your face, Hokage. Nor have I done anything to warrant further actions against myself, and if you plan on putting me on trial again there will be more than just words between us. Lee is here as my aid,” he said for lack of a better word, and before he could continue Tsunade found her voice again.

“Your aid?” she spat. “You're not allowed to speak with my shinobi, Kazekage, and that means you're not allowed to employ them as your _aid_. Lee, get out. Go back to your—just leave. You were discharged over an hour ago.”

“With all due respect, Hokage-sama,” Lee said, and Gaara had the funny feeling Lee meant absolutely no respect by it, “but I will not leave.”

Tsunade narrowed her eyes, taking a step forward. “Lee, I understand you're still mad at me over Gai—”

“I do not wish to speak with you on the matter, Hokage-sama. Gai-sensei is only alive because of the Kazekage and for that I have sworn myself to him.”

Silence fell like a trap being sprung, intense and gut-wrenchingly quick. All eyes snapped to Lee and Gaara: Kakashi, who had stopped reading upon their arrival but had been maintaining the illusion, was staring wide-eyed at them both; Yana's mouth fell open; and Sayuu flinched, scrutinizing Lee carefully, though she remained almost entirely impassive.

Tsunade gaped at Lee, nostrils flaring like a bull. A small sound escaped her, but no words came. Gaara forced his expression to remain neutral, though he found it surprisingly difficult, as he said, “As I was saying, Lee is an exception.” 

Slowly, Tsunade turned to look at him with wide, bulging eyes, anger making her look wild and fierce. “You have gone too far, Kazekage," she breathed. "I thought you'd reached the limit removing your people from watch, but this—this level of disrespect—”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Gaara interrupted, all amusement gone and his voice hard. “Lee came to me of his own free will with no ulterior motives. I accepted him for my own reasons, none of which have anything to do with you. If we could please put the matter to rest, I believe we have a war to discuss.”

Tsunde met his glare, unrelenting and furious. Gaara had been prepared for this and he did not waver. Finally, Tsunade spoke, words stilted and as even as the edge of a sword. “This isn't the end of this, Kazekage.”

“Perhaps aside from the reparations you'd also like to negotiate my head on a platter at war's end?” he snarked. “We shall discuss this later, Hokage. For now,” he glanced at Kakashi, Yana, and Sayuu in turn, “let's get to the matter at hand.”

Tsunade regarded Gaara and Lee for one more bitter moment, before she turned away, disgust on her face, and refused to look in their direction again as though the mere sight of them would send her over the edge. “I want a word in private when this is finished. And I do mean _private._ ”

Gaara inclined his head. “Very well. Yana, I understand that you accompanied Kichirou on the second half of your mission.”

“Yes, Kazekage-sama,” Yana said, fidgeting with her new hearing aid. “I had lost my hearing aid, unfortunately, so I was only able to obtain information from those I could see. Kichirou was not in any state to report his findings to us when we reunited with our comrades after escaping Kumogakure.”

“That is fine,” Gaara said, signing stiffly as he spoke. “What did you uncover?”

Yana licked her lips, her hand falling into her lap. “There were two people speaking to one another, but one wore a mask. The other matched the description of the man Kakashi had seen upon escaping the mountains where Maito Gai was originally taken hostage. He was not human, of that much I am sure, but I have never seen him in any bingo book and his skills are unique.”

“Was he the one who attacked you?”

“Yes,” Yana said, taking a deep breath. “He came up through the earth. He could turn himself into vines, and he could summon poisonous and carnivorous plants. Escaping Kumo seemed impossible with him chasing us, and because I'd lost my hearing aid I couldn't hear anything he said. Forgive me, Kazekage-sama, I am afraid I have nothing more to offer.” She bowed her head with the shame of her failure.

“There is nothing to forgive," Gaara said gently. "You completed your mission: you returned Maito Gai to Konoha and brought vital information to us. You have done well.”

Yana barely lifted her head. “Thank you, Kazekage-sama. We did all we could to make it back to you."

“Kichirou was incoherent for most of the journey,” Sayuu interjected, “but we gathered enough from his ramblings to know that we are out of time. Whatever preparations for the war we've made will have to suffice. We need to meet the enemy in battle as soon as possible.”

“That's easier said than done,” Tsunade snapped. “Our preparations haven't been going smoothly and we're running low on supplies with the village closed to imports. The Nara clan just requested specially made weapons, the Captain of the Guard is now short on man power no thanks to the Kazekage, and with the smaller villages under siege we're not any stronger. Not to mention the loss of Kumo's strength.”

Kakashi sighed, pushing off the wall. “That may be the case, Hokage-sama, but the reality is that we cannot delay. If we want to win this war, we need to make our move. Waiting any longer will end in catastrophe.”

Tsunade pressed her mouth into a thin line, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. “And no matter how quickly we act it will still take time. Word has to be sent to Kiri and Iwa, and who knows what the other Kage will say. They may not agree, we may be marching to war on our own.”

“Do you really believe the Tsuchikage and Mizukage will back out?” Gaara asked, archly. “They are just as invested in this war, Hokage.”

Tsunade looked ready to ignore him, but she relented after a terse moment of silence. “Are they?" she asked, glaring at the wall. "Both of their villages remain in tact, while marching to war could be disastrous for them.”

“We don't have much choice but to trust in them. Waiting around for Madara to make a move has done us no good.”

“Nothing this war has wrought has done us any good,” Tsunade said bitterly. “If we march to war now, we will die.”

“Whatever happened to the hope we were supposed to be fighting for?” Gaara asked. “If this is your Will of Fire, Hokage, then we are truly at the mercy of the enemy.”

“Don't talk to me about hope! Hope isn't going to win this war.”

“And giving up will?”

“We don't even know what the enemy's planning! For all we know they'll wait another few months before attacking—”

“Or they could be moving towards the island where Naruto is. Kumo is closest to the island, Tsunade. Don't you think it's odd that Kumo was the second village to fall? It's one of the strongest villages with Konoha suffering from Pein's attack. Surely it would have been more prudent to attack Kirigakure?”

Tsunade paled, turning at last to look at Gaara. Fear flickered behind her gaze and she shook her head as though denial could delay the reality of the situation. “It's not possible. Naruto is safe on that island.”

“I would not be so sure,” Sayuu interrupted.

“What?” Tsunade asked.

“As I said, Kichirou was delirious, but he had some lucid moments. He made it quite clear to us, in those moments, that the jinchuuriki are no longer safe. The enemy knows where they are and it is only a matter of time before they seek them out.”

“Dammit,” Tsunade cursed, turning back to the window. She leaned forward, pressing her head against the glass.

“It's time to call our allies to war, Tsunade,” Gaara declared heavily, rising from his seat.

Tsunade closed her eyes. “To war,” she agreed softly, voice trembling. “I just hope that we're not going to our deaths.”

***

They'd traveled a day and a half away from Kumo, heading north until the Raikage's trail went cold and from there they headed east. Hoshi's leg slowed them down, but Mikoto and Makoto had managed to find first aid supplies within the city, and the problem was, more or less, averted. However, the journey was still slow and fruitless. Following a cold trail had begun to dishearten Haruna's comrades, and though she wanted to believe that the Raikage was still alive, even she had begun to doubt. It was hard to imagine the Raikage falling to anyone, even the undead, but the enemy was strong enough and Haruna knew better than to deal in absolutes.

“We'll rest in a little while,” she called back to her comrades. “It will be dark soon enough.”

“I'm fine to keep going,” Mikoto said.

“As are we,” Go agreed. “Hoshi, how's your leg?”

“Been better, but I'm fine to keep moving. The longer we delay the less likely we are to find him.”

Haruna stopped in her tracks, turning to give Hoshi a level look. “Don't push yourself, Hoshi.”

“I'm not,” he said, frowning. “It's not so bad. The pain killers are working.”

“The pain killers are masking the injury,” Haruna reminded him. “We can't afford you getting worse. We'll keep moving until it's dark, then we'll find a safe place to make camp.”

There was no argument and they continued on, making their way down the mountains. If they kept traveling through the night they would be out of the mountains by dawn, but Haruna did not want to risk traveling in the dark with Hoshi's injury. If his condition worsened, there was little they could do for him out here with no real medical skill amongst their group. Haruna cursed herself for never having cared for the art of medical jutsu.

In the mountains, night came slowly and then all too suddenly. By the time they decided to set up camp, just before the last rays of light disappeared, they had made it to the next mountain peak on their descent. Hoshi sat down heavily when they stopped, stretching his injured leg out in front of him and massaging it. Haruna shook her head, but didn't say anything as she and the others began setting up.

“Go,” Haruna said, signaling to her comrade, “take first watch while we set up.”

Go nodded, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

They had camp ready in ten minutes and a small fire going five minutes later. The food Mikoto and Makoto had found in the village would last them a month if they were careful, but Haruna was hesitant to ration too much with Makoto's arm still injured and Hoshi's leg no better.

By the time food had been made, night had fallen completely and all six of them had eaten their share. Roku joined Go for watch duty, while Hoshi, Makoto, and Mikoto slept. Haruna remained awake, looking over the map and trying to suss out where the Raikage might have gone. 

Her mind drifted to that final hour of battle, replaying the Raikage's final moments before he'd disappeared. If he were alive, he'd do all in his power to keep the enemy busy, to ensure that no others were hurt. Farther north, at the edge of the mountains were several small villages, which meant that moving north would put others at risk; the Raikage wouldn't do that if he could help it and Haruna was sure that he would have been able to hold his own against the enemy, at least well enough to choose where they ended up.

But the lack of a trail left her concerned. He'd been headed north that much was clear, but east seemed the most likely direction to go from there. Haruna bit her lip, tapping her finger against the map, ignoring the headache creeping up on her. 

“Haruna,” Go said suddenly, startling her. A kunai was in her hand before she'd looked up from the map.

“What is it?”

“Travelers approaching. Five of them.”

“Are they heading this way?”

“Directly. Roku is keeping watch currently, but they're close. They'll be here in ten minutes by my calculations.”

“Enemies?”

“Undetermined. They're moving slow, but it could be a trick.”

Haruna clenched her jaw. She glanced at the others who'd woken upon Go's arrival. Hoshi's injury would hinder him in a fight, as would Makoto's, which meant it was four against five. Even with a fire going, Haruna did not like those options.

She rose. “Let's go meet them.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “If something happens to us, Mikoto, I want you to take the lead and find the Raikage. Keep these two safe.”

“Hai,” Mikoto said, rising from the ground. She began packing their supplies as Haruna and Go left.

“Which direction are they coming from?” Haruna asked softly as they made their way to Roku's outpost.

“The south. From Kumo.”

Haruna narrowed her eyes as they approached Roku. The band of people had stopped just far enough away that Haruna couldn't make out their faces in the darkness, but the light from the moon, half shrouded by clouds glinted off the metal plating of hitai-ate.

“They're shinobi,” she said. “Be prepared to engage."

Go and Roku shifted, drawing swords from sheaths on their backs. Haruna stepped forward, raising her hand to her own sword.

“What is your nindo?” a familiar voice called.

“My nindo is hope,” Haruna replied, but she didn't relax her grip on her sword. “Do you fight for the same cause? Or are you controlled by a master who speaks lies through you?”

The speaker stepped forward, a kunai in hand. “I have no master,” he said. “But I know of whom you speak. We finished our mission in Otogakure, but when we came home we found that our village was destroyed.”

“How did you make it out alive?”

“We didn't enter the village,” Darui said.

“What are you doing this far north?”

Darui shrugged. “We'd scouted the perimeter, found signs that the fighting had spilled out of the village. We'd hoped that we'd find comrades, maybe even the Raikage.”

“The Raikage is missing. We're looking for him.”

“To kill him?”

“How dare you?” Haruna snapped. “I fought alongside the Raikage when our village was attacked. I fought to protect the peace of this world—”

“Sorry, sorry,” Darui said, holding up his hands in surrender. “It's just—how can we be sure you're alive?”

“I was going to ask you the same question,” Haruna countered. “There's no real way to tell, unless we agree to drop our weapons.”

“And what would that do?”

“If you have a pulse, then you wouldn't mind if I checked.”

“And the same to you.”

Haruna nodded, releasing her sword. “Go, Roku, be ready.”

Darui handed his kunai off to a familiar looking blonde woman before taking a step forward. He and Haruna met each other half way between the two groups. She eyed him carefully, checking for the tell-tale green of the eyes that she'd seen in her brother's or the strange stiffness of limbs that she'd seen in the other shinobi she'd fought.

She extended her hand, grasping Darui around the wrist as he did the same to her.

Her tense shoulders relaxed as her fingers found a gently beating pulse. Darui's expression softened as he stared at her, a smirk spreading across his face.

“It's good to see survivors,” he said.

Haruna nodded. “Glad to see you didn't get killed on your return home. Do you want to join us? The Raikage's trail went cold about half a day's travel back, but we haven't given up yet.”

Darui nodded. “We'd be glad to.”

“Go, Roku. Alert the others of our approach.”

“Hai,” they said in unison, turning away and heading back to camp.

“How long ago did the attack happen?” Samui asked.

“About two weeks ago. The fight lasted a full day before Kumo finally fell. We'd almost been victorious, but the enemy was simply too strong.”

“How did you survive?”

“Luck and skill,” Haruna said simply, turning away. She signaled for them to follow and they began to make their way back to camp. “We discovered that fire kills the enemy effectively, but only the undead. The ones in black overwhelmed us. However, many of us managed to escape.”

She stopped just before the camp, waiting for Roku and Go to give her the okay. After a moment, Go nodded.

“Are you hungry?” she asked the new arrivals. “We don't have much, but I think we can spare some food.”

“I'm starving,” Omoi chimed in.

Karui nodded. “Yeah, me too. We ran out of supplies yesterday—weren't supposed to be gone this long, were we?”

“No, I suppose not,” Haruna agreed.

Mikoto began unpacking their supplies again, passing a loaf of bread around to the newcomers. “It's great to see familiar faces,” she said.

“Tell me about it,” Atsui said, sitting down next to Omoi. “So have you been looking for the Raikage for two weeks?”

“No,” Haruna said. “We took shelter for about a week, then sent those too injured to search to the safe houses. We've only been at it for a few days.”

“But the trail's gone cold,” Darui said.

“Unfortunately. We're going to make our way out of the mountains, then continue east, towards the ocean.”

“Do you think he'd go there?"

“It's possible. There's really no way of being sure, but you're here, so you must have felt that this was the right way to go as well.”

Darui chuckled. “Sorry, you're right.”

Haruna picked up her map, handing it to Darui. “I've mapped out a possible route for us to take. If you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to hear them.”

Darui took the map, scanning it. He frowned. “Isn't there an abandoned village north-east of here?” he asked, tracing his finger along the path Haruna had drawn. “It was destroyed during a civil war with a neighboring village, wasn't it?”

Haruna stared at Darui's finger as it stopped on a small black dot. “You think he went there?”

Darui looked up, meeting her gaze. “I think it's worth a shot. It's the only place I can think of that would be safe for him to take shelter away from civilians.”

Haruna let out a breathy laugh. “Better get some sleep, then. We've got a long way to travel in the morning.”

***

“Perhaps,” Gaara intoned, staring at the massive stack of requests on Tsunade's desk, “if you'd been more keen to work with me instead of against me, this could have been avoided.”

Tsunade snorted. “I wasn't aware that you had the power to produce supplies from thin air, Kazekage.”

Gaara resisted the urge to roll his eyes, picking up one request from the stack. “The Aburame clan has requested that one of their sons, Shino, be relieved from his mission in the forest,” he read. “Surely this would have been easy to fill.”

Tsunade snatched the request from him, grumbling. “I haven't had time to read over every request. Some of them don't pertain to the war, some of them are simply not priority.” She pulled two stamps and pads of ink from the desk drawer as she scanned the request. A moment later, with one stamp newly coated in ink, she pressed it onto the form. It came away a bright green, leaving the character 'GRANTED' in bold. She set it aside.

“Sit, Kazekage. We have much work to do and, if your people are to be believed, little time to do it in.”

“Kakashi was among those who reported,” he reminded her. “And he is one of yours.”

Tsunade barked out a laugh, not meeting his gaze. “Is he? Could have fooled me.”

Gaara watched Tsunade carefully before picking up a portion of the stack and setting to work. “I find, Hokage, that if you work in the best interest of your people it inspires more loyalty. Perhaps you have lost sight of what's best.”

He expected Tsunade to bark out an insult or even kick him out, but the resigned sigh that escaped her caught him by surprise. He glanced up at her, noting the way her shoulders slumped and the tired lines on her face.

“Perhaps I have,” she said.

Gaara sat back, staring openly. “You truly have lost your Will of Fire.”

Tsunade shook her head. “I am tired, Kazekage. And I feel older than my years. This war—it has weighed heavily on me, and the decisions—” She stopped abruptly, closing her eyes and letting out a long breath. “We're fighting for a future that I can no longer see. I do not know what our end goal is anymore, other than to survive. The alliance feels more fragile than ever—"

“We do not see eye to eye, Hokage, but if you would remove the reparations—” Tsunade held up a hand, stopping him.

“If I remove the reparations, Konoha suffers. If I don't, Suna suffers. Both of our villages are weak, but it seems that I have taken on my village's weakness where you have found strength.” She leaned back in her chair, running a hand down her face. “I think my time as Hokage is nearing its end, to be quite frank.”

Gaara reeled, staring wide-eyed at Tsunade, at a loss for what to say. She dropped her gaze, returning it to the stack of requests before her. Finally, Gaara spoke.

“This comes at a terrible time, Hokage. If you resign now—"

“Not now,” she snapped impatiently. “After the war, if I survive.”

“And who will be your successor?” he asked, worry creeping into his chest.

“Naruto,” Tsunade said without hesitation. “Perhaps not immediately though. I think we can both agree, Naruto isn't mature enough for that yet. Moreover, his goal of becoming Hokage has been overshadowed by his search for Uchiha Sasuke. So until he learns what being Hokage means, he won't be ready.”

“And what does it mean, Hokage?”

Tsunade stamped another request, this time a red 'DENIED' across the top of the form. “Sacrifice,” she said. “For Naruto, it would mean giving up on Sasuke. I don't know if he's ready to do that.”

“He isn't,” Gaara said. “I spoke with him not long ago, just before the war. Sasuke is still all he thinks about.”

Tsunade hummed, glancing down at Gaara's untouched pile. “Do you need a stamp?”

Gaara glanced down at his stack. “Indeed,” he said, and she handed him two more stamps from her drawer, setting the ink pads between them.

“Red,” she said, pointing to the pad on the right, and then to the left, “green. I'm sure you can figure out which is for which.”

Gaara smiled dryly. “I'm sure I can.”

“It is my hope that when Naruto returns from his training on the island that he will be more accepting of Sasuke's fate. If not that, then perhaps in a year or two, after some training, he will learn.”

“What is Sasuke's fate? He hasn't come up since his last appearance at the first summit.”

Tsunade shook her head. “He is a criminal—a terrorist, isn't he? I imagine that the only thing waiting for Sasuke in Konoha or any other village is death.”

Gaara pressed his stamp into the green ink pad, then onto the request before him for weapons for the Nara clan. “I would not presume to kill Uchiha Sasuke were he to arrive in my village,” he said carefully.

“I do not presume that anyone can,” Tsunade said. “He is incredibly strong. I fear that Naruto may need to make a very hard choice where Sasuke is concerned, but right now I don't think he's ready for that.”

“I do not know if Naruto would go through with such a thing, regardless of any training he undergoes. His devotion to Uchiha Sasuke is blinding. He truly believes that Sasuke can be saved.”

Tsunade shook her head. “Naruto will learn, one way or another.”

Gaara was quiet, unwilling to express his doubts on the matter. Tsunade had proven to him that her bias towards Naruto was blinding in its own right, and he did not want to stir her into another fit of anger. After their meeting and with Lee no longer trailing him, Tsunade had deflated, all the anger and righteous indignation she'd held gone from her in the wake of the terrible truth. She knew now her own failures, and Gaara had no desire to point out any further weakness of character when it was not so pressing a matter. Silence fell between them, the only sound in the room the rustling of paper and the frequent squelch of the stamps as they were pressed onto forms. Gaara focused fully on the pile of requests, and slowly it dwindled. By the end of the first hour he had moved onto another stack.

Tsunade tapped her fingers against her desk and huffed. “Would you reconsider the removal of your shinobi on the wall? Or am I going to have to thin out mine further?”

Gaara glanced up, his eyes catching the request form on her desk. “I will only reconsider if you deal with the Captain. You have not heeded my warning, I take it.”

“Nobuo filed a report, along with every shinobi on the wall last night. They all claimed that you were hostile.”

“I do not deny that I was less than agreeable, but I had every reason as I told you." He hesitated. "And I am sure not every shinobi filed a report. Unless my own shinobi reported to you on the matter without my knowledge.” 

Tsunade frowned. “None have, but every Konoha shinobi had the same thing to say.”

Gaara cast an arch look in her direction. “The exact same thing?”

“What are you suggesting?”

Gaara set aside the requests he had in his lap, leaning forward and ignoring the pain that thrummed in his side as he moved. “May I see the forms in question?”

Tsunade regarded him carefully, then after a moment pulled a file from a different stack on her desk, handing it to him. Gaara flipped it open, reading through each report quickly. Finally, he glanced up at Tsunade. “It doesn't strike you as odd that fourteen people worded their reports nearly the exact same as the Captain's?”

Tsunade held out a hand and Gaara returned the file to her. She scanned the documents, brow furrowed. “It's hardly uncommon for shinobi's reports of the same incident to sound similar. They are taught to be concise in reports, after all.”

“True,” Gaara said. “But these reports strike a chord with me. They sound as though they were written by the same person attempting to find variety, but failing to do so. I have nothing to hide, Tsunade. My demeanor last night was as the report claims. I undermined the captain, as my position allows, and I have no doubt that I was hostile in my approach. Had I needed to, I would have engaged your captain in combat, but he was not so foolish as to challenge me. Perhaps because if he had it would have proven he is not acting in behaved in the best interest of this village.”

Tsunade seemed to waver for a moment. “I shall speak with Kakashi and the others on the matter. If they can corroborate your story, then we will discuss further how to deal with the Captain.”

“We should deal with it as soon as possible," Gaara warned. "I should have mentioned it during our meeting, but truthfully it slipped my mind. However, if it is as I fear, then by pulling my people from the wall, I will have alerted him to my suspicions.”

“I will call for Kakashi and Sayuu to meet with me at the hospital again this evening. I need to check in on Gai as it is.”

“Could you inform me of his condition as well?” Tsunade raised a questioning eyebrow. “Lee accosted one of the medics tending to Gai after our meeting. I believe he was a little too eager and the medic has banned him from visiting.”

Tsunade snorted, a vein in her temple throbbing at the mention of Lee. “I don't see why I should. Lee's done nothing to endear himself to me these past weeks, and this new arrangement between you two is highly unprofessional. I could have Lee imprisoned for treason.”

Gaara narrowed his eyes. “You know better than to think Lee is capable of such a thing.”

“That's besides the point. His loyalties to Konoha are in question now.”

Anger rose in Gaara quicker than he'd imagined it would and his gourd rattled before he could clamp down on it. “He's still loyal to Konoha. It is you that his loyalty has wavered for.”

Tsunade glanced at the gourd against her desk, then at him, eyebrow arched. “And I am Konoha," she said evenly. "As the Hokage I am this village; my will is the village's will; my orders are on behalf of this village. If Lee isn't loyal to me, then he is not loyal to Konoha.”

“That is a dangerous line of thinking, Hokage. You are only human and, as you have proven, capable of making mistakes. Your mistakes are the reason that I acted and the reason that Lee feels bound to me. It has nothing to do with Konoha. Lee still loves this village.”

Tsunade stamped another form with a little more force than necessary. “Lee is a shinobi of Konoha. Swearing himself to Suna—"

“But he didn't swear himself to Suna. He swore himself to me and me alone. I could step aside as Kazekage and Lee would still remain in my services, because this is has nothing to do with village allegiances. It is about Lee's personal feelings. I am not Suna, you are not Konoha. We are only our villages' appointed leaders, and as you have said, you are no longer fit to be Hokage."

“Now wait just a minute—”

“You have already made your decision to take Naruto under your wing to prepare him to succeed you. As Kage, we are not above mistake. You made a mistake and it cost you. But Lee will do all in his power for this village, even if his personal loyalties lie with me.”

Tsunade shook her head. “You understand that the only thing that stays my hand is the war. If I wanted to, I could put you both in prison for this. And perhaps at war's end I will.”

Gaara leaned back, meeting Tsunade's gaze. "You could try." 

"This is not the time for a pissing contest," she snapped. "Whatever Lee may feel, he was wrong to do this and, while I'll allow that perhaps I did bring this upon myself, Lee is not the worst of it. It's your actions that baffle me. Of all people to act so irrationally, so—so sentimentally, I would not have expected it to be you. Surely you must have considered how I would react? Or any of the other consequences that could come of this! What is your motivation in all this? Why did you agree to this—this ridiculous arrangement if it wasn't to get back at me?”

Gaara looked away from Tsunade, placing another green GRANTED on a form. He idly contemplated the character's green ink and each radical that made up the word. "Kazekage?" Tsunade asked, pulling him from his musings. “Lee's request took me by surprise," he admitted. "He didn't doubt his decision for a second, and in no time he has taken to his promise to me with the same tenacity I have seen him take to everything else in life. I have known Lee for many years, perhaps not well, but I knew enough to know that he is a trustworthy and capable shinobi. It is one of the reasons I wanted him to accompany me to Suna for reconnaissance. His skills were valuable, but more than that, his strength of character is what helped make the mission a success. After the mission, Lee felt less like an acquaintance and he visited me often in the hospital, even confided his own concerns about the mission to retrieve Naruto to me. When he returned from the failed mission, broken and injured, I in turn visited him. I thought of us as friends, and I think he did too.

“His request to serve me, though—I am used to loyalty from my people and my family, but Lee has none of those ties to me. What he did last night in swearing himself to me was unorthodox, but he has always been unique." Gaara was usually a man of few words, but he had been pondering this development with Lee all night and still he could not explain it—not Lee's request or his acceptance. Speaking the words aloud did not seem to ease his confusion though, and he sighed. "If I had not rescued Ga, nothing would have changed between myself and Lee, of that much I am sure. He swore himself to me out of gratitude, and perhaps it is misguided, but Lee does not do anything by halves. All I know is that, when he knelt before me and offered himself to me, I could not say no. For a moment, I thought I would turn him away, but something stopped me. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes," he said, voice gone suddenly quiet. The image of Lee kneeling before him, staring up at Gaara under the moonlight would stay with Gaara forever. SInce it had happened, he hadn't been able to shake the memory of Lee's eyes rooted to him, imploring and bright, reflecting the moon and all of his feelings. "I knew it was foolish," he said, not truly speaking to Tsunade anymore, barely even looking at her now. "I knew it, and yet I could not deny him despite this.”

A slow smile had spread across Tsunade's face as he talked. She leaned back in her chair, shaking her head, amusement glittering in her eyes. “You're at a loss, Kazekage.”

Gaara inclined his head. “I am.”

“I suppose I can accept that," she said. It seemed that his answer had pacified her. Perhaps his confusion on the matter made the arrangement more amusing to her than insulting, but whatever the reason for her peace, he would take it. "I will still be speaking to Lee on the matter, however. His loyalties are still in question, no matter how much you vouch for him. I am sure you understand: it is my duty as the Hokage to ensure that he has not turned traitor."

“I do,” Gaara said softly. “And I know your concerns are unwarranted.”

“Knowing Lee, I would have to agree with you, but that doesn't change anything.”

“Of course,” Gaara relented, returning his attention to his stack of requests. “How many more of these are there?”

Tsunade groaned. “Too many.”

Gaara shook his head, pressing a red 'DENIED' into the paper before him. They still had much to go through, but at least they were making progress, and maybe now with the final battle approaching so quickly the rift between them would finally be mended.

***

The news that Lee had sworn himself to the Kazekage had spread quickly. It had taken less than twenty-four hours for the entire hospital staff to catch wind of it, another twenty-four for the rest of Konoha's residence, and then by the third day all of Suna's people had heard the rumors as well.

Kankurou and Temari laughed themselves silly at the news, sure that it was some sort of misunderstanding.

“It's hilarious!” Kankurou wheezed when Gaara had asked him why the news was so amusing. “Rock Lee! Swearing himself to you! I mean, come on, Gaara. No one in their right mind would actually believe it! Especially not if they were at the Chuunin exams.” 

Temari's laughter died almost instantly at the look on Gaara's face, but Kankurou continued, oblivious. “I mean, I like the guy, I really do. He saved your ass, so how could I not? But can you picture that?” Kankurou barked out a laugh, saluting and pushing his mouth together in a poor attempt at mimicking Lee. “'I promise to honour and serve you youthfully, Kazekage-sama!'” He dropped his hand, laughing again.

A knock on the door of their rooms echoed just beneath Kankurou's loud guffawing. Gaara flicked his gaze to the door, then to Temari, before narrowing his eyes on Kankurou again.

“Lee is a capable shinobi. I don't see why this is so amusing.”

“Oh, come off it,” Kankurou said, wiping tears from his eyes and somehow still unaware of Gaara's irritation. Temari rose from her seat, moving to the door, though she kept a close eye on Gaara. “I know he's a great shinobi, but—"

The door slid open, revealing a harried looking Rock Lee carrying a large bento box. “Excuse me, Temari-san, I do not mean to disturb you at this hour, but I needed to speak with the Kazekage.”

Kankurou's words died, his gaze flicking back and forth between Gaara scowling down at him and Lee framed in the doorway. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Gaara narrowed his eyes. “I don't kid.”

Kankurou groaned, slumping into his seat. “I cannot believe this is happening. I cannot believe—what did the Hokage say when she found out?”

“She assumed it was about retaliation for the reparations. I'm fairly certain that, had we not been at war, she would have thrown us both in prison. I believe she's come around to the idea, though.”

“Really?” Temari asked from the door, motioning for Lee to come in. “I find that hard to believe.”

Gaara didn't offer explanation, his entire focus now on a tearful Lee. “What's wrong?”

“Gai-sensei is awake,” he said breathlessly. “But they will not let me see him.”

Gaara took the offered bento, sliding the lid off to reveal a selection of steaming dumplings. “I'll go with you. They won't turn you away if I'm there.”

Lee blinked back tears, nodding. “Thank you, Kazekage-sama.” 

Gaara took one steaming dumpling from the box, then handed it off to Kankurou wordlessly. “I'll need to debrief Gai,” he told Lee. “It may be upsetting for you to hear, so if you'd rather wait outside his room—”

Lee shook his head. “I would rather be present. I—I must be strong for him. He has been through much and I am sure my presence would be helpful.”

Gaara nodded. “Let's go.” He paused at the door, turning to his siblings. "Whatever Gai has to say, I imagine that things will begin to move much more quickly from here on out.”

"Shit," Kankurou groused from the kitchen where he was putting the dumplings away. "We already knew that. 'Bout damn time we did something, anyways."

“Do you want us to go with you?”

Temari asked.

Gaara shook his head. “No. I think it will be enough for the Hokage and I to be present.” 

Temari and Kankurou shared somber looks, then nodded. “Good luck.” 

Gaara and Lee left, making their way to the hospital as swiftly as Gaara dared move. He'd grown more and more accustomed to the constant pain as it dulled over the past few weeks, but sudden movements still agitated him and sitting for too long made his ribs ache. He was learning to live with it, but it was still difficult and some days it felt nearly impossible. It was one of the few drawbacks to his Ultimate Defense: pain was simply too foreign a feeling for him to easily adjust to it.

The hospital was alive with movement as medics rushed back and forth. Most didn't pay him any mind, but a few stopped, watching wide-eyed as he and Lee walked past. A familiar voice shouted down the hall.

“Lee-san!” 

Sakura was heading down the hall, carrying a large pile of scrolls in her arms. Her hair stuck up in every direction and her shirt was rumpled, as though she'd just woken up from a nap. Gaara slowed his pace, stopping before Sakura in the middle of the hall. Up close, he could see the bags and bruises under her eyes.

“Kazekage-sama,” she said, nodding to him. “Lee-san, did you hear about Gai-sensei?”

Lee nodded. “Yes, the Kazekage was kind enough to accompany me so that I would be able to see him.”

“Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten you'd been banned—well, that's just unfair! They can't keep his students from visiting him, especially not after all the worrying you've been doing.”

Lee's lip trembled as he stared at Sakura, his eyes filling with tears. “Thank you, Sakura-san. I—it has been very hard without him and I have not been allowed to see him since he was brought in."

“Rock Lee! What are you doing in here?” a man shouted from behind them. They turned, glancing down the hall as a medic stomped towards them. “I'm fairly certain that I said you were not permitted to enter this building under any circumstances—"

Gaara stepped in front of Lee and the man stopped short, flinching away from his gaze. “Lee is here on official business with me. I'm sure you can make an exception.”

“I—that is—we can't give out special treatment—he's been banned!”

Gaara narrowed his eyes and the man closed his mouth with a clack of teeth. “Forgive me, of course he is welcome.” He bowed perfunctorily, then turned tail and ran back down the hall, nearly tripping over himself as he fled from Gaara. Lee let out an aborted sob, clamping his hand over his mouth and closing his eyes tight.

“Are you all right?” Gaara asked, watching him carefully.

Lee nodded mutely, taking in a deep breath. “I—I am fine. Thank you, Kazekage-sama.”

Gaara nodded, turning back to Sakura. “We should go. I do need to speak with Gai and I'm not sure how much strength he'll have for that.”

“Oh, of course. Forgive me for keeping you,” Sakura said. She smiled sadly at Lee, reaching out a hand to squeeze his shoulder, awkwardly balancing her scrolls against her chest. “He'll be all right, Lee-san. I promise.”

Lee nodded, placing his hand over Sakura's. “Thank you, Sakura-san.”

She left after that, heading back down the hall from where she'd come and disappearing through a door marked 'RESTRICTED'.

Gai's room was at the very end of the recovery ward with two ANBU standing guard. Gaara flicked his gaze between the two as he passed through the doors, but they didn't move to stop Lee from entering. The room was dimly lit, a medic standing at the bed, jotting things down on a clipboard while Kakashi spoke softly to Gai, leaning close to him. The Hokage stood by the window, looking out onto the courtyard. Gaara watched her reflection as her gaze snapped to him, then to Lee. She sighed heavily.

“Is there even a point to reminding you that Rock Lee isn't allowed to be on the premises?”

“No,” Gaara said flatly.

“Le-Lee?” Gai croaked from the bed. The medic moved aside, allowing Gai a clear view of his pupil. Lee let out a choked sound, moving quickly to his sensei's side. Gai reached out a hand and Lee clasped it between both of his own, bowing his head.

“Gai-sensei,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “I am so happy to see you.”

Gai let out a choked laugh. “It is good to see you too.” His gaze drifted to Gaara and he smiled, though it looked pained. “I am told that I have you to thank for my return,” he said, words strained.

“Only in as much as I gave the order.”

Lee let out a sob that echoed around the room, but he quickly stifled it. Gaara stepped forward, standing beside Lee. The room was silent as Lee cried quietly, clinging to Gai's hand for dear life. Gai watched him cry with half-lidded eyes, tears falling down his own face. The moment stretched, no one daring to interrupt until finally Lee's crying subsided and he looked up, wiping his tears. He gave his sensei a watery smile, then glanced up at Gaara.

Gaara nodded. “I understand that you have only just woken but, if you are up to it, the Hokage and I would like to debrief you.”

Tsunade stepped forward, standing at the foot of Gai's bed, her expression tight with guilt. “If you would like to wait, we understand, but keep in mind that time is not on our side.”

Kakashi shifted, his good eye narrowed at the Hokage. “Perhaps if you had listened to us sooner—"

“I am well aware of my short comings, Kakashi. Thank you. Gai?” 

Gai turned to look at Kakashi, smiling softly. “I think I have the strength for that. Although,” he cleared his throat, “some water would be nice.”

Lee scrambled to his feet, quickly grabbing water from the bedside table and pouring his sensei a glass. “Do you need a straw, Gai-sensei?”

Gai chuckled stiltedly, shaking his head slowly. “No, Lee. This is fine."

He sipped slowly for a few minutes, Lee carefully holding the cup for him. After a moment, he nudged the glass away. “Thank you, Lee.”

“Shall we begin?”

At Gai's nod, Tsunade cast a look at the medic, dismissing her silently. Once the medic had left and the door was closed firmly behind her, Gai began.

“Kakashi says I was there for twenty-four days by his count. I remember fighting the enemy, luring them away from my teammates. The only thing that seemed to work against them was fire, but my chakra—” He stopped, coughing abruptly. Lee quickly offered him more water until he waved him away. “I was sure I would die. I didn't want to open the Eighth Gate in case Lee, Neji, and Kakashi hadn't escaped. I needed to be sure they were safe, but then a man appeared—he called himself Zetsu. His body was half white and half black.”

“Zetsu? I've never heard of him. That's the man you saw before, isn't it Kakashi? The one Yana and Kichirou faced off against?”

Kakashi nodded. “Yes."

“He was strong,” Gai continued hoarsely. “I was determined to fight him off, but he summoned plants that released a gas. I lost consciousness and when I came to I was somewhere dark and damp, and that masked man, the one who started the war, was asking me questions. He—he did unimaginable things to me.” Gai broke off, closing his eyes.

“I am accustomed to pain, of course. I can withstand a great deal of physical pain, which he figured out quickly—though not quickly enough. He cut into me, used rusty knives and nails, sometimes he submerged me in water until I thought my lungs would burst. I—” Again, Gai stopped, breathing heavily and his hands shaking. “It was painful, but I withstood it. I had to believe that my teammates had made it out, because it was all that sustained me. I willed myself not to speak despite the pain, and the torture continued. He tore apart one of my legs—it was unimaginable pain, but I bore it until he finally gave up when he realized that no amount of physical torture would make me speak.”

No one spoke as Gai fell silent. He motioned for the water again and Lee complied, tilting the glass up to Gai's bruised mouth. Gai emptied the glass, then continued with his story.

“I do not know how long the physical torture lasted, but the mental torture went on for a lifetime. He used his Sharingan to try and get the information he needed. I remember vividly spending days training my students with Kakashi at my side, and every day Kakashi would ask me the same series of questions: What was I doing in Kumo? What was the Hokage planning? Where was Uzumaki Naruto? I always told him the same thing: You already know, my friend. It seemed to upset him. Every time I answered this way my mind was wracked with pain and I was sure I would die.

“Eventually, his tactics changed. He forced me to watch my loved ones held hostage, tortured, and killed—he forced me to watch myself do unimaginable things to—I cannot bear to think on it.” He choked back a sob and Lee took his hand in his, squeezing gently. Gai looked into Lee's face, tears in his eyes as he smiled sadly down at him. The look in Gai's eyes as he stared at Lee sent a chill down Gaara's spine; he could only imagine the horrors Gai must have been shown, the things Madara had forced Gai to watch himself do to Lee, to Neji, to Tenten, and Kakashi.

“I don't remember everything. There are blank spaces in my memory, but I know that Naruto isn't safe any longer. The last time I was tortured I know I gave away valuable information. I—I am so sorry, Hokage-sama. I have failed you.”

"You did no such thing, Gai,” Tsunade said, thickly, tears rolling down her face. “If anything, I have failed you.”

Gai let out a sob, coughing harshly as he did, his shoulders shaking. Lee quickly refilled his cup of water, waiting until the coughing had passed before helping his sensei to drink.

“We should begin to organize our troops,” Tsunade said, turning to Gaara. “We should speak further—”

“Wait,” Gai said, choking on water. “Wait, there's—something else. I—I know I was not thinking clearly, but I recognized him. The masked man who calls himself Uchiha Madara.”

“What do you mean?” Tsunade asked slowly. “How could you recognize him?”

“Because I grew up with him, because I went to the academy with him.” He glanced at Kakashi, and something passed between them. Kakashi's eye went wide.

“No, that's not possible."

“I am sorry, my friend,” Gai said. “But it is the truth. The one who started this war is Uchiha Obito.”

***

The island had moved again since the last time Zetsu had spoken with Obito, but now that they knew why they'd been unable to find it before, he did not worry. Even with Maito Gai no longer in their care, the strength of Madara's forces would be more than enough to wipe out the armies of Konoha and Suna, and if Iwa and Kiri did catch wind of their recent activity, he was sure it would be easy to subdue them as well.

Zetsu closed his eyes, listening to Naruto and Killer B as they spoke. The man he'd chosen to possess had been a difficult role to fall into. Naruto seemed to know him quite well and often Zetsu caught Naruto watching him warily. He forced himself to remain relaxed and unconcerned though. If Naruto or Killer B sensed his unease, then he would give himself away. As it was, he'd accidentally revealed himself in Konoha only the other evening when Gai's rescue team had returned. It was only a matter of time before the Hokage acted, even with his best attempts at covering his tracks.

He'd possessed the fourteen Konoha shinobi on the wall with him that night, but the jutsu took much out of him, and after his last attempt during the siege on Kumo, he was weak. He felt his hold on Iruka slipping as he forced himself to keep so many bodies functioning.

“Hey, hey! Iruka-sensei!” Naruto called. “Watch this!”

Zetsu turned, staring blankly and forcing a smile as Naruto began to glow bright like the sun. Zetsu squinted, his eyes watering at the brilliance radiating from him.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You're getting stronger.”

“Ha! By the time I get off this island, I'll definitely be able to bring Sasuke home.”

Zetsu nodded, a flutter of amusement making him smile. “I'm sure you will.”

Naruto turned back to Killer B, his body still glowing. “You ready to try it?”

Killer B nodded. “Yo, kid, I got your back. We gonna spring that trap!"

Zetsu had looked away, but at Killer's B rhyme he turned, wide-eyed as Naruto and Killer B rushed him, a massive net of chakra between them. He was knocked to the ground, the chakra net trapping him effectively. He let out a shrill cry. “What is this?!”

“I knew it,” Naruto said, heavily. “You're not Iruka-sensei.”

“How?” Zetsu growled. “How did you know?”

“Last week,” Naruto growled, his eyes filling with tears, “when I used my new Suppa Orioke no Jutsu, you didn't react. I joked about when I used it on my exam and you didn't say anything.” Naruto clenched his fists, grinding his teeth. “Who the hell are you?”

Zetsu raised an eyebrow, grinning slowly. “That ridiculous technique? That's what gave me away?” He let out a laugh, throwing his head back. “How foolish! Of all the things—"

Naruto let out an angry yell, grabbing Zetsu by the collar of his vest and pulling him up. “Who are you?"

“I'm your sensei, Naruto. What's left of him, anyways.” He grinned, vines snaking through the net of chakra and wrapping around Naruto's wrist. Steam rose from the vines, but he didn't care. “It must pain you to know that your sensei is dead. Was Iruka important to you? Did he love you?”

Naruto growled, throwing Zetsu away from him and into a tree that crunched with the force of impact. Zetsu fell to the ground, tangled in the net and the tree's roots. He hissed, summoning vines from the ground, but they were weak and did little to slow Narto down.

“Iruka-sensei's not dead!” Naruto cried. “He can't be!”

Zetsu laughed. “Are you really Konoha's hero? You're just a sad, lost little boy, aren't you, Naruto-kun?”

Naruto pulled his fist back, but he didn't move. Zetsu waited, grinning up at him. “You can't do it, can you? You can't hurt your precious Iruka-sensei. How pathetic.”

Naruto took a step back, dropping his fist. “I'll fucking kill you, you bastard. I swear it.”

“Oh?” Zetsu asked. “But you can't kill me from here, Uzumaki Naruto. You see, I'm not really here at all. I'm just using Iruka, like a doll.”

“Why?”

“To watch you, of course. You and the Eight-Tails. We need you if we're to win our war.”

Naruto narrowed his eyes, glancing back at Killer B, who was frowning down at Zetsu. “Shut your trap, you stupid plant. This ain't no time for that.”

“Ah, yes, I'd forgotten. Naruto-kun, you don't know about the war, do you? All your friends, your comrades, they're all marching to war as we speak—well, soon at any rate. Your Hokage didn't tell you this trip wasn't so you could train, did she? It was to keep you out of the way while your friends fight and die to protect you."

Naruto's hands were balled into shaking fists, tears flowing freely down his face. When Zetsu met Naruto's gaze, it was red with anger. A moment later, Naruto's fist collided with the side of his face, a low growl coming from him.

“Get out of Iruka-sensei's body,” he snarled.

Zetsu spat blood onto the forest floor, grinning. “I suppose I should. I have much to attend to. After all, I have my work cut out for me back in Konoha. Do you think your village can withstand another attack?”

Naruto yelled, pulling his fist back again, but Zetsu released the jutsu, leaving Iruka's body and returning that part of his consciousness to his real body in Kumogakure. He grinned, rising to his feet, wiping blood from his chin.

“I believe,” he said, glancing at Obito, “that the Nine-Tails' host is about to join the party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure it's really obvious now, but there are going to be a lot of deviations from canon in terms of certain characters and histories. I could give less of a crap about all the shit that was revealed during the war in canon, so Zetsu is now my own creation because I don't really understand needlessly complicating history and canon any more than it already is.


End file.
